Brotherhood
by ICanStopAnytime
Summary: Anticipating a quiet life, Coach Eric Taylor has started a new position in Fort Worth. But his daughter Julie is entering middle school, his wife is taking a job in a sketchy part of town, and now his older brother, a D.E.A. agent, is coming back into his life. Things aren't going to be as low-key as he'd hoped.
1. Moving In

Eric thought Tami would be happier in Fort Worth. She hadn't been able to find a job in the last town they'd lived in, and so she'd thrown herself into being the best stay-at-home mom she could be, but Julie was headed into 6th grade this fall (middle school, they called it these days), and the girl was suddenly uninterested in being seen with her mother. Tami needed a new focus in life, and they'd both agreed it was time for her to get back to work, which is to say, Tami had agreed, and Eric had decided it was advisable not to rock the boat. After all, she was moving for him again, for the fifth time in twelve years.

Tami had started sending out resumes as soon as he got the offer to be the QB coach at Oliver Loving High. What the hell kind of name was that anyway? Oliver Loving? Some cowboy, Eric was told, but when you said it, it just sounded odd. Not that it mattered. Oliver Loving High was a 5A school, a big step up from the school where he'd been coaching.

Tami had gotten a job offer, as a counselor at a Women's Center in the sketchy part of Fort Worth. Eric wasn't too pleased about that, and he made her promise she'd never work past 5 PM. But she'd gotten the job, and she was happy about it, so he couldn't exactly tell her no. She'd been hired within just three weeks of applying.

"That girl gets jobs faster than a knife fight in a phone booth," Eric's dad had told him the last time they talked on the phone, and it was true – every time they'd moved, it seemed Tami had merely had to turn around once and smile and she had a job. Every time except the last town, the town Tami and Julie both insisted on calling "East Podunk."

Tami had worked on and off over the past twelve years. Eric preferred the years she was home, even if the extra money she earned had meant they'd been able to pay off her college loans, save a little, and trade up each time they moved. Yesterday, they'd been handed the keys to the very livable three-bedroom, two bathroom, one-story house that now stood before them. It didn't have the his and hers closets Tami was always talking about, but it had a two-car garage he could use to store all his game tape, and Tami would be glad to see those tapes _out_ of their closet.

"Want me to carry you over the threshold?" he asked her.

She laughed – that laugh that was all tangled up with affection and love and fondness, with just a little hint of sultry – and in that instant he remembered falling in love with her. He swept her up, and her long hair streamed back like a flash of fire, like those yellow-red tongues that had leaped up from the logs on the lakeshore that night he'd had her for the first time, that night he realized what people meant by that euphemism "make love," that night he understood that everything else he'd done up until then had just been sex.

Julie rolled her eyes and said, "You're supposed to open the door first, Dad." She sighed. "Guess I have to do that then."

Eric shook the keys that were in his hand, half under Tami, and Julie wedged them out and opened the door for them. When Eric put Tami back down on her feet, she kissed him, and their daughter said, "Do you have to do that?"

"We _have_ to, Julie, babe," Tami said. "It's in the marriage contract." And then she walked into the living room, twice the size of the old one, and she twirled in a circle, her arms outstretched and said, "I love it, Eric. I love it!"

"You ought to," he drawled, "You picked it."

He glanced at his watch. Two hours until his meeting with the head coach and his fellow assistant coaches. Two days until summer training started. Two weeks until his first teacher in-service. And, if Coach Ramsey stuck to his retirement plan, and Eric proved his mettle, two years until he himself was the head coach of a 5A school. "I better start unloading the truck."


	2. Fooling Around

**Chapter Two**

"The Oliver Owls," Julie said. She was lying back-down on the couch, a book in the air over her head, "It sounds like a little kid's team."

"The Oliver Loving Owls," Eric corrected her, pointing at her with the remote control from where he sat in his recliner. He was suddenly struck by the horror of having to say, "Let's go, Owls," and "Come on, Owls," and "Owls, you've got this" and other such terrifyingly embarrassing phrases for the next who knew how many years. "You're right. It's a God-awful name for a football team."

"What were they thinking?" Julie asked.

"Oliver Living High has a good academic reputation," Tami said as she slid onto Eric's lap in the recliner and draped her arms around his neck. He let his arm fall lightly around her waist and forgot the game tape for a moment. "An unusually good reputation for the area." The average Fort Worth school was not precisely highly rated. "Maybe they chose it to symbolize wisdom." She toyed with Eric's hair, just above his neck. "And they've got a wise QB coach now, don't they?"

She must have known he was nervous about his first day of training tomorrow. This was no doubt her way of reassuring him, and it worked – a little bit.

"Well, if I'm going to be a wise coach, I've got to watch some more of this game tape."

Tami pouted. "Am I blocking your view, sugar?"

"You're quite the view yourself, babe, but" - he raised the remote toward the TV again and unpaused the tape. "Really. I have to."

She sighed and slid out of his lap. "It's just as well. I've got an early morning appointment at the counseling center tomorrow. I need some sleep. So do you too, probably, Julie babe."

"For what? It's still summer. I don't have anywhere I have to be tomorrow."

"Aren't you going to that community center pre-teen activity camp thing? You know that _thing_ I told you about, that starts at 9? You can bike right over."

"Thought I'd just stay home and read for the next few weeks until school starts."

"That's no way to make friends, Julie," Tami told her. "And you're going to want friends when school starts."

"Dad never had any friends in East Podunk, and he did just fine there."

Eric didn't correct her with the town's real name. He'd accepted a year in that it was just going to be East Podunk to Julie, for as long as they lived there. But he did insist, "I did too have friends."

"Who?"

"Coach Donald."

"He was your _boss_," Julie told him. "Do you even talk to him anymore?"

Eric wanted to scold her for the snide tone of voice, but he felt like he had to pick his battles these days. It seemed she'd gone from daddy's little girl to rising middle-schooler overnight. "I just called him yesterday."

"For advice. About _work_," Julie said, "Who else were you friends with?"

"The other coaches on the Eagles." That had been his old team. Now _that_ was a decent name for a football team.

"Again, _work_. Who else?" Julie asked.

"Joe Ramirez."

"You didn't even like him," Julie said. "You just had to pretend to like him because he was a booster. Name one _real_ friend you had there."

"Yo mama."

Julie laughed.

Tami muttered, "Good Lord" and walked down the hallway. "You're going to that camp thingamajig tomorrow!" she shouted back to her daughter before she closed the bedroom door.

**[FNL]**

Julie did not go to that camp thingamagig. Instead, she rode her bike to the public library that was just two miles from their house. She did make a friend there, however, a quiet girl named Maria, who uncharacteristically ventured out of her own shell to ask Julie about a book she was reading – a book she happened to love as well.

Julie wasn't particularly shy, even if being the only brainy kid in East Podunk had gradually made her antisocial. So she answered Maria – in enthusiastic detail. Arrangements were made to hang out at Maria's house the next night.

Tami was reassured her daughter would not be a social outcast.

**[FNL]**

Eric slid his hand under Tami's shirt and teased her nipple. She'd taken off her bra earlier that evening, as she often did when she knew she was in for the night. He had her pressed to the living room couch. While his fingers worked skillfully, she moaned against his lips.

Julie was at Maria's. Eric and Tami had begun by cuddling and watching a TV show, but neither of them had any idea what was on the TV at the moment. They panted between kisses. Tami fumbled with his zipper. He eased a hand under her skirt and slid down her panties before tossing them on the floor. They only got halfway undressed, and they both giggled like teenagers when it was over, as they lay there spent, Eric still on top of her.

"Get off," she said finally. "You're too heavy."

He rolled onto the floor, hiked up his jeans and boxers, and zipped up. He sat forward and turned to smile at her. "You saying I'm getting fat?"

"You've put on a few pounds since college," she teased, "but I don't mind. You always were kind of a skinny quarterback."

"You didn't know me in Pee Wee. Short and fat. Then suddenly one day I was tall and skinny."

"Well now you're just right." Tami straightened out her skirt and sat up.

Eric rejoined her on the couch, slid an arm around her, and closed his eyes when she rested her head on his shoulder. She turned off the TV, and it was suddenly quiet, except for the chorus of crickets from all directions outside the house. One table lamp dimly lit the living room. "I wonder what our life would be like if you _had_ been drafted by the NFL."

Eric tensed beside her. He didn't mean to. He knew she hadn't been disappointed in him when he'd failed to make it, the way his father had. She'd been his comfort and his encourager instead.

He'd been close to being drafted – _so close _– but not close enough. Good, but not good enough. That's how he'd felt his entire life, he realized, until Tami loved him. She made him feel good enough. She made him feel better than good enough.

"You'd have divorced me for half my millions," he answered, "and right now I'd be in a hot tub drinking champagne and surrounded by beautiful women."

She laughed. "You miss your high school days, sugar, when all the pretty girls used to chase you, before I told you I wouldn't see you at all unless we went steady?"

"Nah. Besides, you were the prettiest girl who ever chased me, so I figured I'd let myself get caught."

"_You_ chased _me_."

"That's not how I remember it."

Now they both laughed. Headlights flooded the driveway. A car door open and closed and Julie's voice could be heard, saying, "Thanks for the ride, Mrs. Sanchez."

Eric nodded to the floor. "You might want to put your panties back on."

The front door knob jiggled. They could see it from the living room. Tami shoved the panties under the couch.


	3. QB1

**Chapter Three**

"Good work today, Eric," said Coach Ramsey.

Eric glanced up from the playbook that lay open on his desk. Lockers could be heard slamming just outside the office. The Owls had started summer training, two-a-days, one session in the early morning, and one in the evening. That was the only way to train in a Texas summer. The afternoon might kill you. "Thank you, Coach."

"Hold the fort down for me until the last boy has left, will you? I've got to get."

"Sure thing. And thank you for this opportunity. This is a big step up for me."

"But still just a stepping stone, huh?"

Eric couldn't read the tone of Ramsey's voice, so he didn't answer.

"Eric, you ought to know that Coach Arnold is expected to take over my job when I retire. It's pretty much a done deal as far as the administration and the boosters are concerned. I only tell you frankly because I don't want to give you false hopes about where this position will lead."

Eric's ambitious ten-year plan, when he realized the NFL wasn't going to draft him, had been to work his way up to the head coaching position of a 5A or 6A a high school. But it had now been twelve years since he'd graduated from college, and he was still just an assistant. Julie had not been a part of the ten-year plan. He and Tami were supposed to start trying for their first child when he turned 31, not be surprised by a pregnancy their senior year of college. Eric hadn't been able to dedicate as many hours to football as he wanted. There was the need to do more than coach to pay the bills, and then there was the time required to be a father.

"I didn't have any expectations about that," Eric lied. He wondered if Ramsey could see his jaw twitch. Coach Arnold was twelve years older than Eric, but he'd only been coaching for six years. Maybe Eric could change some minds over these next two season and make a done deal un-done.

As Ramsey went out the door, Coach Arnold came in. He waited until Ramsey was out of sight and then shut the door. He turned to Eric, lifted his brown Owls cap, scratched his gray-haired head, and asked, "What do you think of Ramsey's decision to make Moss Gouda QB1?"

Eric leaned back in his chair a little until it squeaked. "Well...He's the most mobile of the bunch. Excellent arm strength. And good aim."

"But out of the three of them, he knows the plays the least."

"Because he's new to the sport," Eric said. "But I heard he was a straight A student at his old school in D.C."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"What's intelligence got to do with mastering complex plays?"

"And that's another thing," Coach Arnold told him. "He's not from around here. He sticks out from the team like a sore thumb. He says _you guys_ when they say _y'all_. He says _soda_ when they say _coke_. He says _yes_ when they say _yes, sir_. And what is he?"

"He's a quarterback. What do you mean, what is he?"

"I mean, is he Mexican or half black or Arab or what? I can't tell."

Eric stood up from his chair so he was more eye-to-eye with his fellow coach. "I don't see how his ethnicity is relevant here."

"What kind of name is Moss? Hell, what kind of name is Gouda? Why is his name a cheese?" Coach Arnold shook his head. "Well Ramsey wants him and I'm not going to rock that boat. But I don't want him bringing the team down either. It's your job to shape him." He pointed a finger sharply at Eric. "So do your job."

"I intend to, Coach."

"Good." Coach Arnold jerked open the door and walked out.

Eric plopped back down into his desk chair. _That_ was the idiot the boosters and administration wanted to replace Ramsey? _That_ guy? Eric shook his head and returned his attention to the playbook, but he was soon interrupted by the sound of his name: "Coach Taylor?"

He looked up to see Moss Gouda filling the doorway.

Eric motioned to the chair across from his desk, and Moss sat down. The junior was an inch taller than Eric. The boy's dark brown eyes looked worried. "This team, Coach Taylor, I don't know if I'm cut out for it. They're not like my old team. I started playing ball in 9th grade. I just tried out. I'd never played before. You couldn't do that here."

"Sure you could. I pulled a boy off the soccer team at my old school."

"And you're telling me he never played football before that?"

Eric shrugged. "Maybe a year in junior high. Maybe some flag for a couple years in elementary. Look, son, Coach Ramsey wouldn't have given you the QB position if he didn't think you could manage it." He closed the playbook and slid it across the desk to Moss. "I want you to take this home, and I want you to study it, just like you were studying for a test. You know how to pass a test, right?"

"Yes."

Eric corrected him sternly: "Yes, _sir._"

"Yes, sir."

"Don't forget the sir next time. Consider that a test too."

"Yes, sir."

"You and I can do some extra sessions outside of practice. As long as you've got the discipline and the dedication, you're gonna be a'ight."

"I just don't know that I fit on this team."

"You know, Moss, I'm the new kid here too."

"Not exactly, Coach. You were born breathing Texas football. Everybody on the team looks at me like I don't belong. You've seen it."

Eric _had_ seen it, and he had filed the fact away on his list as challenge number one. "You're gonna be a'ight, Moss. Trust me."

When Moss had left, Eric picked up the phone and called Tami. "I think we're gonna need to do some team building here. Think you can whip up a barbecue?"

"By when?"

"Saturday evening?"

"Next Saturday?" she asked.

"Uh…I meant this coming Saturday."

"Eric, that's in three days. I have a job too, you know."

"Pretty please? With a cherry on top? I need to mesh my quarterback with the team. I don't think he hangs out with these guys off the field."

She sighed. "Fine. But you've got to do the shopping, and you've got to get everything I put on the list. No _Sorry, I forgot_. "

"Yes, ma'am."

"When are you coming home? Julie and I ate already. Your plate's in the fridge."

"I'm on my way. You know how summer training goes."

"Eric, I know how the entire football season goes."

"How was work today? Better?" During Tami's first week, there'd been a lot of scheduling conflicts that caused her stress. She'd twice had two clients show up at the same time. She'd decided not to rely on the secretary and to keep her own calendar and have clients call her directly for appointments.

"No scheduling conflicts anyway. Had one woman show up intoxicated for her session, though. Hard to counsel a drunk woman."

"I don't know about you working in that environment, Tami. Maybe you should apply for a school guidance counselor position or something." She'd done that type of work for the two years they'd lived in Abilene, when Julie was in kindergarten and first grade. "You liked that, remember?"

"Eric, I took the job I got. And maybe I can do some good here."

"A'ight. I just worry about you."

"I know. And it's good to have someone worry about me. Some of these women…." She sighed. "The crap they've been through with the men in their lives…at least I'm going to come home from this job grateful for you, sugar."

He smiled against the receiver. "Yeah? You uh….you gonna show me some of that gratitude tonight?"

"Come home."

"I'll be on my way as soon as this locker room is cleared," he promised her.

He stopped on the way home to pick up a bottle of wine, hoping it might further extend her gratitude.


	4. Gaining Trust

**Chapter Four**

The barbecue went as well as could be expected. Eric only forgot two things, and he was able to run back to the store and get them in time. He and Tami only fought once, and they did it quietly, around the side of the house. Moss made some guys on the team laugh with some stories from his old school. He wasn't family yet, but he wasn't a stranger anymore either. Two nights later, Eric had Moss over for Tami's fantastic lasagna and quizzed him on the plays. He was dedicating all his time to his new QB1 and not worrying so much about his second and third string.

One morning at summer training, Coach Ramsey said to Eric, "You've really taken that boy under your wing. I like the improvement I'm seeing."

Coach Arnold, who was standing nearby, said, "Well, I told Eric to do that. I told him to put in the time," and then he walked over to correct one of the offensive linemen.

Eric felt a strong surge of annoyance, which he quickly suppressed when Coach Ramsey continued speaking to him. "I'm thinking of coaching my grandson in Pee Wee when I retire. You ever coach younger kids? Younger than high school?"

"Some. I've done some off-season training for extra cash." He'd had five young pupils over the years, but his favorite had been Jason Street. For three years, in the winter and spring, three days a week, he'd commuted an hour to a town named Dillon to coach the boy privately. But then he'd lost his teaching job and had to move east for another one, and the commute to Dillon had become unreasonable. He still kept in touch with Jason's parents, though, and he thought Jason had a bright future ahead of him. Maybe, if things didn't work out here on the Oliver Loving Owls, he could turn his eyes toward the Dillon Panthers. Jason would be on that team soon, and maybe he could put in a good word for his old coach.

"I've only ever coached high school," Ramsey said. He pointed at Moss on the field. "I firmly believe he's the right one for the Owls, and you've made some strides, but he still needs work."

"I'll get him there, Coach. I will."

**[FNL]**

Eric kept looking at the house as he walked toward it, glancing down at the address Moss had written on the torn sheet of paper he held, to make sure he was in the right place. Zoning laws were loose in this part of Fort Worth, and you could have a trailer next to a single family home next to a McMansion. Driving up here, he hadn't expected what he saw before him.

He'd left his pick-up in the circular driveway, across from the fountain. The truck looked out of place next to the Maserati thatwas already parked there. When he knocked, he introduced himself to Moss's father, only to find out the man in the suit before him was not Moss's father, but a servant.

Eric took his cap off in the great hall, and Moss met him and led him out back to the expansive backyard, which stretched three quarters of an acre and stopped at the fenced-off pool.

"Where are your folks?" Eric asked. "I was hoping to meet them."

"My dad's out of the country. He travels a lot for his job. My mom's dead."

"Damn, son, I'm sorry, I didn't know that."

Moss shrugged. "It's okay. I was four when she died. "

"So…you're here alone then?"

"I've got Hapi."

Eric scratched his head. "It makes you happy?"

"No, I've _got_ Hapi. The guy who answered the door. He's been with my family for three years now."

Eric glanced back at the dazzling house, wondered if anyone else on the team knew how rich this kid was, and if that would make it harder for him to be accepted. Then again, if Moss threw a spectacular pool party while papa was away, it might work to his advantage. Not that Eric was going to directly suggest he do that.

Moss tossed the football up and then caught it. "Should we start?"

"Yeah," Eric said. "Let's get started."

They must have run a dozen plays a dozen times each. Eric was tired and sweating and his arm was aching when they were done. Moss offered him some ice tea. They sat on two bar stools at a counter overlooking a majestic kitchen with marbled countertops and all stainless steel appliances and the kind of counter and cabinet space Tami would die for. "This is where I usually eat," Moss said. "At the counter. It would feel weird eating in that dining room."

Eric could understand that. They'd walked through it. Twelve chairs had surrounded the sturdy, dark, solid wood table, and the room was filled with expensive looking displays of art, china, and pottery. "How often does your dad travel and leave you here alone?"

"He's gone a few days, back a few, gone a few , back a few….he's in the import business. Art, pottery, rugs, you name it. It's okay. I'm 16. And I've got Hapi."

Eric sipped his tea and winced.

"Something wrong with it?" Moss asked.

"Nah. Not at all. You don't happen to…to have any sugar I can add, do you?"

Moss brought him a sugar bowl. Eric knew it wouldn't be the same, added when the tea was cold instead of hot, but he made do. "They don't drink sweet tea in D.C.?" he asked as he stirred it in.

"They drink both sweet and unsweet. But you've got to ask for it sweet, usually. They don't just automatically bring it to you that way. We actually lived outside, D.C., in northern Virginia. It's got some southern traits to it, but it's also very…I don't know. My dad called it the United Nations."

"Were you born there?"

"I was born in England. My mother was born in America. My dad was born in Egypt." Eric actually had a relative who currently lived in Egypt, in an American-style enclave. He was going to mention the fact for the connection points, but Moss kept talking. "We moved to NoVa when I was three."

"Nova?" Eric asked.

"Northern Virginia. My mom was sick. She wanted to be near her extended family when she died. And my Dad…I guess he just decided to stay there when she was gone. Until we moved here for the lower cost of living."

"Which was just this summer?" Eric asked. Moss had walked on for summer try outs in June.

"Yeah, late May. I'd played football in 9th and 10th, and thought I might try it here. I didn't realize what abig deal it was. I mean, in NoVa, people are just as competitive about academics. Like… whose kid got what on the SAT, and whose kid is going to what college, and whose kid is taking the most AP classes, and that kind of thing. Sure, playing football makes you a popular there, but it's not like….I mean…like that professional photographer that came after training Wednesday evening?"

"What about her?"

"To take our pictures? For the collector's cards?"

"What about it?" Eric asked.

"It's weird."

"The elementary school kids love those cards. You visit a couple schools before homecoming, hand out your cards, sign them for the kids. It helps with ticket sales too. My wife had half a dozen of those cards when she was in fifth grade, all pinned up on her bulletin board."

Moss laughed and shook his head. "Well, if I thought it was weird before, now I _really_ think it's weird."

"Look, son, you're just gonna have to get used to being something of a god. Trust me, it's not _all_ bad. Sure doesn't hurt in the girl department."

"I'm not shopping the girl department." Eric shifted his cap, and Moss hastened, "I'm not gay! It's just, I have a girlfriend. Back in NoVa. We've dated two years. We're trying to do the long-distance thing."

"Ah." Eric didn't say what he was thinking, which was that long distance relationships seldom worked, and that Moss would not fit in well at the football parties without a girlfriend on his arm, or that it must be awfully lonely, with a father who was only home half the time, in a new town, with your only girl over a thousand miles away.

"I know what you're thinking," Moss said. "People think it's stupid. That I'm too young to be in love. But I _do_ love her."

"I get that. Hell, I married my high school sweetheart. Of course, we were older when we started dating. We were almost 18."

"You didn't date anyone until you were almost 18?" Moss asked.

"No. I didn't date _her_ until then. I dated other girls first."

"So, she wasn't really your high school sweetheart, then?"

"Well, one of my high school sweethearts."

"That's not really what the term high school sweetheart means," Moss told him.

"She _was _my college sweetheart, then. All I'm saying is, I get what it's like to be young and in love."

They talked for another fifteen minutes before Eric left. He felt good on the way home, proud not only of the progress he'd made on the plays, but of reaching that point where Moss seemed to trust him.

Trust. That was the breakthrough that was hardest – and most valuable – in coaching.


	5. An Unexpected Call

**Chapter Five**

When Eric got home from Moss's, there was no dinner awaiting him on the table, and Tami was nowhere to be found. He knew Julie was at Maria's – they'd been planning a sleepover for days, but where was his wife?

He called her cell phone, which went unanswered. He left a message, and then he paced. He repeated this exercise three times before grabbing his hat and keys and dashing out to his pick-up, frantic and ready to hunt her down in the bowels of Fort Worth. He couldn't help but imagine her there in that sketchy part of town where her office was located, lying in a pool of her own blood.

But as he was unlocking the truck door, he saw her rounding the street corner in their safe and sleepy neighbourhood, looking pretty in her sexy-classy (as he called them) work clothes, and swaying just a little bit.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked when she reached him, his fear coming out in anger. "I called you three times! You don't answer your phone? I didn't buy you that phone for you not to answer it!"

"First off," she said, holding up an unsteady finger, and he could see she was buzzed, "I bought that phone for myself. Second, I was at the book club meeting at Stephanie's house, like I _told_ you I would be. You need to write these things on your calendar."

"If you walked there and back, where's your car?"

"It's in the garage. I cleared enough space. It's supposed to hail tonight."

He glanced at his truck. Everything was bigger in Texas, including summer hail. Their old house in East Podunk had gotten a new roof thanks to some 3-inch hail.

"Your truck will be fine," Tami said. "It's already got a bunch of nicks and dents anyway."

When they were inside, and she had plopped down on the living room couch to take off her cowgirl boots, Eric said, "Sorry I got mad, but I was worried. I forgot about the book club. How am I supposed to keep track of two calendars?"

"I've successfully kept track of three calendars for years." The zipper on the side of her boot rasped loudly as she yanked it down. "I know _everyone's_ schedule."

"I know, babe, and you're great at juggling all that stuff. That's why everything ran so smoothly when you stayed home." She'd chosen to stay home the first two years after Julie was born. After that, she'd gone to work, but every time they moved for his job, she had to start over.

"Is it _hard_ for you, Eric, having to do more around the house?" She was having a hard time with the boots. As she struggled with the second one's zipper, she muttered, "Having to do a tiny _fraction_ of what I did for the last two years in that damn town where I couldn't _find_ a job?"

"I meant it as a compliment. How much you been drinking?" He knelt before her and pulled down the zipper on the second boot. Then he slid her boots off, one by one. His eyes lingered on her legs. He put a hand on one ankle and was about to slide it up slowly when his cell phone rang. He fished it out, flipped it open, and looked at the number. He dismissed the call and tossed the phone on the couch.

"You're not going to answer that?" she asked.

"Nah." He returned his eyes – and a hand – to her legs. "Third time I've gotten a call from that number today. I don't recognize it. If it's important, they'll leave a message."

"And you accuse _me_ of not answering _my_ phone." She swatted his hand, which was now massaging her calf, away. "I didn't say we were done fighting."

"I didn't even know we _were_ fighting," he said. "What are we fighting about again? Remind me."

She chuckled. Her eyes were smiling down at him, a sparkling blue, lit by wine. "You're kind of cute when you're confused. I guess we could just skip ahead to the makeup sex."

He leaned forward and kissed her lips, gently at first, and then with increasing hunger. His cell phone rang again. He pulled away and glanced down. Same number.

"If you don't answer it," she said, "they'll just keep calling."

"If it's important, they'll leave a message."

She snatched up the phone, answered it, and said, "Coach Eric Taylor's cell phone. Eric Taylor's wife speaking." Silence as Tami listened. "So when do you leave Cairo?"

Eric's eyes widened. "Dale?" he mouthed.

She nodded to Eric and held up a finger to silence him. "Yes, we're settled in Fort Worth." Pause. "Of course you can stay with us."

Eric extended his hand for the phone and Tami gave it to him. As he sat back on the floor with the phone to his ear, Tami stood and picked up her boots. "I'm going to lie down," she told him, "If your brother's staying with us instead of at a hotel, tell him he better use his per diem to buy me _wine_."

**[FNL]**

The next morning, when Tami woke up still in her clothes from the night before, she had a headache. She stumbled to the master bathroom, took two aspirin, and then a shower. When she stepped out of the shower, Eric was shaving. He watched her as she dried off and asked if she wanted to fool around. "We both have to leave for work in thirty minutes, and I haven't had my coffee."

"I can be faster than a hot knife through butter."

She laughed. "I'm sure you can." She left him at the sink to go get dressed.

They met again at the breakfast table. Julie was still at Maria's (whose mother stayed at home), and the girls would likely sleep until ten. Julie was going to have to readjust to an earlier schedule when school finally started next week. It had made Tami nervous to let Julie be a latchkey kid this summer. She'd always had a babysitter before, but they didn't know anyone in Fort Worth (though Tami's sister kept talking of moving to Dallas), and Julie was starting middle school. Besides, it was a safe neighborhood.

"So how's your brother?" Tami asked as she buttered her toast.

The call had been rather unexpected. Eric and Dale didn't talk on the phone, except for the obligatory birthday and holiday calls, and they only e-mailed one another on occasion. Dale had been working at a D.E.A. foreign office in Cairo for the past few years. Before that, he'd been in New York, and before that, Los Angeles, and before that, Miami. Tami had met him for the first time at her wedding to Eric. Dale, being ten years older, was already out of college and working for the D.E.A. when Eric was in junior high. The last time they'd seen him was at Eric's mother's funeral, when Julie was in third grade. He'd flown in for three days, just long enough for the viewing, funeral, and wake, and then he was gone.

"Seems A'ight. Guess he's been sent to help out the Dallas-Fort Worth field office with a case. When he's done, he'll go back to Cairo. He asked us not to mention to anyone that he works for the D.E.A., and to tell Julie not to mention it either. I guess he's trying to keep a low profile while he's here."

"You excited to see him? It's been a long time."

Eric shrugged. Tami took his hand and squeezed. She knew he wished he was closer to his brother. When he was in elementary school, Eric had looked up to Dale. But then Dale had graduated from UT-Austin, moved to Miami, and faded from Eric's life.

"Strange he wants to stay with us," Eric said. "He's never…stayed with us before."

"He did that one Christmas. When Julie was in preschool. Remember?"

"Yeah, one night, and only because he drank too much to drive to his hotel. But he wants to stay with us the whole time he's going to be here. He said maybe as long as three weeks."

"Well…that's….good….right? Get to spend some time with your brother?"

"It's just a long time to have a house guest," Eric said. "It's not that big a house."

"We have a guest bedroom. That's what we got it for. So family could visit." Visiting family, though, had meant Tami's sister and mother, any one of ten first cousins, and possibly Grandpa Taylor. Neither of them had thought it would mean Dale.

"Yeah." He pushed his plate forward. He'd eaten all his bacon but only half his toast. "I just…I don't know what I'm going to say to him for three weeks."

"You can talk about football."

Eric snorted. "Nah. He never liked football. Always had to look down on everything Texan. Always wanted out of the state where four generations of Taylors were born. You know Dale."

"I don't actually know Dale," Tami said.

That was when Eric winced. "Yeah. Neither do I really."


	6. Harmless Flirting

**Chapter Six**

Eric doodled a play diagram on the corner of the legal pad he was supposed to be using to take notes during the teacher in-service. School was starting on Monday, and this was how he'd been forced to spend his last Saturday. There had been at least three times today he'd thought he should turn his freshly sharpened pencil around and poke himself in the eye, just so he could be distracted from the boredom. And a poke in the eye would definitely be preferable to what happened next.

"Okay now," the facilitator said. "Let's break into pairs and play a little game."

"Let's not," muttered the pretty blond English teacher who was sitting next to him. _Savvy Sarah Milton_, she'd introduced herself as during the opening name game, when they'd been forced to associate their name with a characteristic that started with the same letter. He'd been _Earnest Eric._

Eric smiled. "And you've only been teaching what, two years?" he guessed.

"Five," she whispered back to him.

"Wait until you've done these things twelve years in a row."

"Earnestly, Eric, you look too young to have been teaching twelve years already." Savvy Sarah flashed a bright smile at him. "Want to be my partner? Could be fun."

"Uh...sure."

She moved her chair so she was facing him. He moved his hand so that his wedding ring was clearly visible.

"What do you think they're going to make us do?" she asked.

"Something useless," he said. "And possibly humiliating."

Sarah chuckled.

The facilitator began passing out print-outs to each pair. "We're going to learn about teamwork!" she chirped. "We're going to learn how students learn to work in pairs and also how to be great teachers as we solve a fun scavenger hunt!"

Eric sighed. He was not alone in doing so; the breath of a dozen teachers seemed to groan out into the air.

The facilitator ignored the chorus of sighs and continued her explanation. "You'll follow a series of clues to discover - "

" – A pay raise?" Sarah interjected. There was laughter throughout the room.

"Well, no, but you'll see!" chirped the facilitator.

They ended up having to walk around the high school, hunting for clues to "becoming a great teacher."

"Well, at least this way you get the lay of the land, right?" Sarah asked him. "You're new this year?"

"Yeah," Eric said, sliding a piece of paper from the handle of locker number 323. This was where their first clue had led them.

"Coaching?" She pointed to his cap. "Baseball?"

"Football. I'm the new quarterback coach."

"I've got all English classes this year, thank God. I had to teach two Life Skills classes last year. What are you teaching? P.E.?"

"I have two P.E. classes, two sociology classes, and two football practice periods. When it's not football season, the practice periods become health and driver's ed."

Sarah smiled. He imagined she'd stepped a little closer. "Sociology?" she asked. "Why sociology?"

"I minored in it. I heard it was a gut. And it was. Until I had to take statistics. Luckily I got to take that class with my girlfriend. She's my wife now." He unrolled the scroll of paper and read, "A great teacher has a positive attitude. You'll be thrown a lot of curve balls in teaching!" His voice went up sarcastically on the exclamation point. "You've got to keep your eye on the finish line and be willing to roll with the punches."

"They should really throw a football metaphor in there, too," Sarah said. "_And then you'll make a touchdown!_"

Eric laughed.

Sarah put a hand on his upper back as though she needed to do that to lean forward and peer at the paper. "So what are our directions for finding the next clue?" she asked. Her long, blonde hair brushed slightly against his shoulder. She smelled faintly of cinnamon. He liked the smell of cinnamon.

Eric stepped away. He handed her the paper, and she read the next clue aloud.

"I think that's leading us to the lunchroom," he said.

Their next piece of sage advice was taped to a chair in the cafeteria. It told them that a great teacher was also a great counselor. "My wife's a counselor," Eric said. "She's a great counselor. And a great wife."

"I get it, Coach," Sarah said. "You're _very_ married. I'm not looking to wreck any homes. I just thought a little harmless flirtation might make this torture go faster."

He smiled, a little relieved, and little amused. "You might have a point there."

Later, when the in-service was over, Eric and Sarah walked out to the parking lot together, chatting.

"Who's the handsome man?" she asked when they got to the second row.

In the fourth, largely empty row, Dale was standing, leaned against a black, Dodge Charger with a blue racing stripe down its front. He was in plain clothes, khaki shorts and a red polo, no Fed-like suit.

"That would be my brother," Eric said.

"He _would_ be your brother," Sarah replied.

"I better be going," he told her. "You have a good evening now. I'll introduce you to my wife if you come to the game on Friday. I think you'd like her."

Eric had to admit, the afternoon had been a nice ego boost. He'd been married for a long time now. It was nice to know he still had _it_, whatever _it_ was, even if he knew Tami was the only woman in the world for him.

As he approached his big brother, Dale was smiling beyond him. Eric turned and saw that Sarah was getting into a car one row over from them. "Good afternoon, ma'am," Dale called to her, and Sarah smiled back. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" he asked her.

"If you don't count the heat," she said, and got in her car and shut the door.

"She's _half_ your age," Eric told him.

"And you're _married_," Dale replied. "And she _can't_ be half my age if she's a teacher, unless she's fresh out of college and this is her first year. I'm not _that_ old."

Eric smirked and pointed to his hair. "Got some gray creeping in, though I see."

"Hey, this is you in ten years." He pointed up and down himself. "Only you won't have this amazing physique."

"Or that amazing ego," Eric said.

Dale laughed.

"How did you know I'd be here right now?" Eric asked.

"I'm a federal agent, little brother. I know how to figure these things out."

"Nice car," Eric said, looking over the Charger. "Is this my tax dollars at work?"

"I believe your salary is _also_ paid by tax dollars. Anyway, we seized this one. Most of the guys drive Toyota Corollas. But I'm special."

"Well you always were _special_."

Eric ducked when Dale mock punched him. It felt good, the banter. Maybe things weren't going to be as weird as Eric had feared.

"Follow you back to your house?" Dale asked.

"Why? Can't figure out the way yourself? And I thought you were a _special_ agent."

"Nice pick-up!" Dale yelled after Eric when he was opening the door of his nine-year-old truck. "I bet those window cranks work real well with a little elbow grease!"

Eric flipped him the bird over his shoulder and got in. He was planning to buy a new pick-up after they moved, maybe even a suburban, but instead they'd bought Tami a new sedan. He'd wanted her to have something safe and reliable. He didn't want her walking out of the office in a high-crime neighborhood only to find her car didn't start.

When they got out of their vehicles at the house, Eric helped Dale with one of his two bags. He set the bag down on the porch before opening the front door and raised a finger at his brother. "You're a welcome guest in this house, but I have one rule."

"What's that?" Dale asked.

"No flirting with my wife."

"You mean the way you were flirting with that hot young thing back at the school?"

"Two rules. No mentioning that to Tami either." Eric began to turn the knob but paused. "Three rules actually. The TV is reserved for football 85% of the time."

"Doesn't matter, brother. I don't watch TV, anyway. Unlike you, I'm an intellectual."

"Yeah. Sure. An intellectual with a subscription to the Playboy channel," Eric said as he swung the door open.

"Well, it's lonely being this beautiful," Dale joked as he followed Eric inside.


	7. Dinner with Dale

**Chapter Seven**

Dale poured Tami a glass of the red wine he'd brought. Then he poured one for Eric and himself and set the bottle down on the kitchen table before picking up his fork again. "Tami, your cooking is fantastic. I haven't had pork chops in a long time, and I'm not sure I've ever had ones this good."

Tami smiled and reached for her wine glass, but before she could sip it, Dale asked, "How are you enjoying your new job? Eric said you're counseling at the Women's Center?"

"How nice of you to ask about that, Dale," she said, looking pointedly at Eric. "I think it's going fairly well now that I've worked out a few kinks, but Eric seems to think I'm at constant risk of falling victim to roving gangs."

"Her office is not in the best part of town," Eric said. "That's all I'm saying."

"Well, I'm sure Tami has her wits about her," Dale said, "and wouldn't intentionally put herself in a dangerous situation."

Tami swept up her wine glass. "Thank you, Dale, for pointing that out." She sipped. "Good Lord!" she exclaimed. "This wine is amazing!"

"It better be," Dale told her. "I spent all of today's per diem on that bottle."

"What's a per-dee-um?" Julie asked.

"When I'm on the road for work, they give me some extra money for expenses."

"How much?"

"That's a rude question, sweetie," Tami told Julie. "You don't ask people how much they make."

"He said it was extra. I didn't ask him how much he _makes_. How much _do_ you make?"

"Julie!" Tami scolded.

"I just want to know because I might want to go into the F.B.I. when I grow up."

"Most special agent positions – DEA, FBI, what have you – start a bit under $30,000 these days," Dale said. "But there's overtime and regular pay raises over the years. I probably pulled in 95 grand last year."

Eric couldn't help but notice that Tami choked and sputtered her wine a little when she heard the figure. She patted her lips with a cloth napkin.

Julie was more obvious. "Wow! That's a _lot_ more than Dad makes. And you don't even have a wife or kids. Why _don't_ you have a wife or kids?"

"Julie!" Tami scolded her.

Dale hastily changed the subject. "Eric, I'm looking forward to seeing your game on Friday."

"My game? You're going to the game?"

"Of course I am."

"You don't even like football. You never came to my games before."

"Sure I did," Dale said, "when you were a kid."

"You didn't even come when the Mountain Lions were in the State Championships."

"How could I come to the State Championship? I was all the way in L.A."

"Could have hopped a plane," Eric muttered.

"I couldn't afford the airfare or the time off from work."

"Is that so?" Eric asked. "When you'd already been working for the D.E.A. for five years?"

"I had college loans to pay off. I didn't get a full ride like you. And I was saving up for my wedding and honeymoon back then. Not that I _needed_ to. But I didn't know that at the time."

Eric shuffled the gristle from his pork chop around on his plate. He'd forgotten about that. He had no idea how long or deeply it had hurt his brother to be dumped three weeks before his own wedding. He just knew Dale had never again introduced a woman to the family.

"And I did go to your games," Dale insisted. "When you were in Pee Wee. And even Junior Midgets. I came home on weekends from college and went to a bunch of those Junior Midget games."

"Junior midgets?" Julie asked with a snort.

"That's…it's for the ten year olds," Eric said.

"The _fat_ ten year olds," Dale countered, and Julie laughed again. "Most ten year olds were still in Pee Wee. Most didn't weigh enough for junior midgets until they were twelve."

"I wasn't fat," Eric insisted, "I was _powerful_."

Julie asked to be excused. "I told Maria I'd call her before seven."

"Clear your plate," Tami told her.

"Pretty girl," Dale said as Julie was disappearing from the dining nook into the kitchen, "almost as beautiful as her mother."

Tami smiled.

"Powerful," Eric repeated. "All muscle." He laughed at himself. "A'ight. And maybe some fat surrounding the muscle."

"You _were_ powerful," Dale agreed. "Dad was certain you'd make up for the fact that I quit Pee Wee after two years."

"I thought you never played football," Eric said.

"When I was eight and nine and you were just a twinkle in Daddy's eye, I played. Just not well enough for Dad. After two years, I decided I was done letting him ride me. He tried to force me to sign up again, but Mom told him to back off. He never let me forget it though. You complain about me not going to your State Championship game? You know how many of my high school baseball games Dad came to?"

Eric shook his head. He'd remembered going to those games when he was six and seven. He thought his big brother was a god, as Dale laughed easily in the dug-out with all his high school friends, and winked at Eric in the bleachers before he swung, and once leapt what Eric imagined was six feet to catch a ball against the fence. He remembered watching Dale, but he didn't remember who took him there.

Dale held up his fingers in the shape of a zero.

"No how," Eric said. Their father had been at every one of his football games. Every single one. Sometimes Eric had wished he _wouldn't_ come.

"Yes how," Dale replied.

"I can't believe that."

"Why not? You know how disappointed he was in you, and you did everything he wanted of you up until you didn't make the draft. Anyway, I thought maybe I'd come to your practice, too, on Monday."

"My practice? Why?"

"See my little brother in action. See how he works."

Eric smiled lightly. He'd always followed Dale around as a kid; he was always trying to see how his big brother operated. "Really? You'd be interested in that?"

"Sure. But, listen, remember not to mention to anyone that I'm a DEA agent. I'm not deep undercover or anything like that, but I would like to keep a low profile. Blend in. Look like I'm visiting family."

Eric tried not to let the disappointment creep into his voice. "You _are_ visiting family."

**[FNL]**

"I thought he really wanted to hang out with me." Eric took off his watch and slapped it down on the dresser. "For a second there I thought he actually _wanted_ to watch me coach." Tami put a hand on his back and rubbed gently, but it didn't soothe him. He stepped away. "I guess he just needs to pretend he's actually close to his little brother, so it'll look normal, him visiting here. Hell, he'll even pretend to like football to blend in!"

"Eric," Tami said softly.

He pulled off his shoes and threw them in the open doorway of the closet. Tami picked them up and lined them up against the wall inside the closet before changing into a night shirt. When she came out and shut off the closet light, he was wearing only his black cotton boxers.

Turning down the comforter, she said, "Just try to enjoy your brother's company while you have the chance, sugar."

"And what was all that?" He waved a hand in the air. "Fantastic cooking, Tami. Tami's got her wits about her. Julie's almost as beautiful as her mother. And on and on."

"He was complimenting me, hon." Tami slid under the sheets. "He was being polite."

"He didn't have to go so overboard," Eric muttered as he clicked off the bedside lamp and crawled in bed.

Tami rolled over to face him. "You think describing my cooking as fantastic and my appearance as beautiful is _overboard, _sugar?" she teased. "You think that's an exaggeration?"

"Of course not." He draped an arm around her waist and let his hand come to rest on the small of her back. "It's an _understatement_. What I _meant_ to say was that I can't believe my brother damned you with faint praise like that."

She chuckled and kissed his nose playfully. He slid his hand from her back to the tail of her nightshirt. "You know what I do think is overboard, though?" he asked as he gripped the fabric.

"What's that, sweetheart?"

"This shirt. I don't see why you need to be wearing such a long, heavy shirt to bed in August. Seems completely unnecessary."

"It _is_ a little overboard, isn't it?" She traced a zig zag on his bare chest with her finger tip. "Think you can help me take it off?"

"I'm helpful," he murmured as he nipped the exposed flesh of her neck and simultaneously pushed her shirt upward. "I'm so very helpful, Tami."

Instead of taking it off, though, he let the tail of the shirt ball in a pool just beneath her breasts , which he fondled through the cotton fabric until her erect nipples strained against the material. Then he slid a hand down to her now exposed thighs and pushed them apart. He caressed one inner thigh with a single finger that he eventually slipped beneath the edge of her black, lace panties. She gasped, closed her eyes, and enjoyed his slow, gentle work. Soon enough, she was shifting her hips to increase the pressure.

"You need some help, babe?" he teased as her movements against his hand grew more desperate. "Because I can be helpful." He crushed her lips with his own, tasted her tongue, and broke away. She whimpered and jerked her hips and grasped the sides of his boxers, but she couldn't pull them down very far, the way his body was half pressed against hers. "Is there some way I can help, Tami?" he taunted her. "You know I _like_ to be helpful."

"You know how you can help, Eric?"

"How's that, babe?"

"Shut up and fuck me."


	8. The Case

**Chapter Eight**

Dale didn't go to church with them on Sunday morning. He said that he had to report to the Dallas-Fort Worth field office. When he rejoined them for dinner that night, he brought yet another bottle of wine, which impressed Tami as much as the last.

"There's a cute little wine store in downtown Fort Worth," Dale told her. "You'd like it. Eric should take you out some time, take you to one of their tastings."

"I take my wife out, Dale. I take her out to nice places all the time. But thank you for the suggestion. I do appreciate that."

Tami chuckled.

After dinner, they all hung out in the living room. Eric ran through game tape from his recliner; Tami sat in the arm chair and worked on some files on her laptop; Julie curled up on one end of the couch to read a book, and Dale sat on the other end, flipping cards over on the coffee table in a game of solitaire.

Julie shut her book. "Can I see your gun?"

Tami stopped typing. Eric glanced away from the game.

"Sure," Dale said. He lifted up the tail of his shirt and pulled the handgun out of his side holster.

Tami glanced nervously at Eric.

"Your dad's taught you gun safety?" Dale asked.

"Not really," Julie said.

Dale raised an eyebrow at Eric.

"We don't have any guns in the house." Eric went to the range maybe four times a year, with a booster or a fellow coach, but he could always borrow a gun. He hadn't been hunting since college. He'd sold his hunting rifle before Julie was born to pay the hospital bill.

"Maybe not, baby brother, but lots of other people _do_. She's bound to be in houses with guns."

"Well, I taught her the basics, of course," Eric said defensively, "She's seen the Eddie Eagle video tape."

"Who's Eddie Eagle?" Julie asked.

"Maybe she doesn't remember," Eric said, "because she was little. But she saw it. Six times."

"Always assume a gun is loaded," Dale announced. He showed Julie how to drop the clip and clear the chamber and check. "Never point a gun at anything you don't intend to destroy." Then he showed her how to hold it and let her dry fire.

Tami watched this all carefully. "When did you decide you wanted to be in the FBI?" she asked Julie. "I thought you wanted to be a ballet dancer or a writer."

Julie rolled her eyes. "Sure. When I was a _kid_."

"I got news for you, kid," Eric said. "You're still a kid."

"Well, you need a college degree to work for the FBI," Dale told Julie. "Preferably accounting or forensics or computer science. Criminal psychology is good too."

"I was thinking English," Julie admitted.

"Uh…English is okay. A foreign language would be better."

"Do you speak Egyptian?"

"They speak Arabic in Cairo," Dale told her. "And English. And French. I majored in French."

"French is such a romantic language," Tami said.

Eric paused the game tape and shifted himself in the recliner to look back at them. "I speak a little Spanish," he said. "Un poco. I took three years in high school."

Tami ignored Eric. "Do you also speak Arabic?" she asked Dale.

"Spanish is a romance language," Eric murmured. "Mi amor…bonita…te llamo…por favor."

"Just enough to get by," Dale answered. "I can read the signs. I can order the best coffee you'll ever taste. And then I can ask where the bathroom is."

Tami laughed.

Julie lay the empty gun down on the coffee table. "Do you get shot at a lot? In your job?"

Dale slid the magazine back into his gun, put the safety on, and reholstered it. "I've been shot at five times in twenty years. Is that a lot?"

Julie shrugged.

Dale gathered the cards from the table. "Want to play Go Fish with me?"

"Go fish? I'm starting middle school tomorrow, Uncle Dale."

"Then how about some Gin Rummy?"

**[FNL]**

Dale watched Monday afternoon practice from the bleachers. He came over to the sidelines halfway through to talk to Eric, and he introduced himself to Moss as "Eric's brother, visiting from New York." Dale had indeed lived in New York, after L.A., but that was over four years ago, before he was assigned to the Cairo foreign office.

As Dale began to talk to Moss, complimenting him using highly accurate football terminology he'd clearly researched ahead of time, Eric felt a sinking sensation in his gut.

That night, after the plates were cleared from the dinner table, and Julie had gone to her bedroom to read, and Tami was cleaning up the kitchen, Eric drew out a couple of beers and invited Dale to the living room.

When they were settled side by side on the couch, Eric asked, "Why were you so interested in talking to Moss?"

Dale shrugged. "Interesting kid."

"I don't think that's why. And I don't think I have to be a DEA agent to put two and two together."

"And what did you conclude?""

"That Moss's father is a drug smuggler." Eric wanted Dale to tell him he was wrong, but he didn't think he was. He was certain Moss had no idea what his father really did, but that luxurious house. Those expensive cars parked out front. The impossible coincidence of Mr. Gouda travelling to Egypt for his import business, while Dale was being sent here from the DEA's Cairo foreign office to help with a drug case.

"I have no interest in Moss Gouda's father."

Eric took a slow swig of his beer and eyed his brother warily. "I find that hard to believe. You talked to Moss twice at practice."

"It's not his father I'm interested in."

"Please don't tell me this kid is trafficking drugs. He's sixteen. And he's a good kid."

Dale shook his head. "Not Moss. And not his father. His father actually _is_ in the legal import business. He made a legitimate fortune that way. I didn't want to have to tell you about this case, but I suppose I better. Besides, I've always wanted to say this." Dale set his beer bottle down on the coffee table with a clink. "The butler did it."

"The butler?"

"The family servant."

"Hapi?" Eric asked.

"You know his name?"

"I've been over at the house a few times to work with Moss."

"You have? Actually _in_ the house?"

Eric nodded.

"You think you can get me in there? Get a dinner invitation from Gouda's father, or something? You could bring me, introduce me as your brother."

"You _are_ my brother. And can't you just walk in there with a warrant? If the butler has drugs?"

"We don't know if he has them right _now_. When we go in, we want it to be when the drugs are actually there. We know he has someone on the unpacking side who gets them out of the import shipments, and we know he sometimes stores them in the house until he can connect with his distributor. We just don't know the timing. If you could get me in there, I could take a look around…just get to know where everything is, so that when we _do_ finally hit the house - "

" - How's this going to affect Moss and his father, when you go in there guns blazing?"

"We try not to go in guns _blazing_. We try to wait to start shooting people until there's a reason."

"Are you going to be seizing assets? Is Mr. Gouda going to lose his business?"

"We have to be thorough, but if he's clean, and I believe he is, he'll get everything back."

"How dangerous is this Hapi guy?" Eric asked.

"He's a middleman and a late-to-the-game one. We're more interested in his Cairo supplier and his Fort Worth distributor. But if we can get something on him we can get something out of him."

"I don't want to get caught up in this, and I sure as hell don't want my family caught up in it."

"Look, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you. It's not like in the movies, Eric. Nobody's going to be hunting your family down. Here in Texas, you probably get more threats as a football coach than I do as a D.E.A. agent."

"And I'm worried about Moss."

"Then help me take Hapi out of Moss's life. Help me bring down the butler. Get me in that house."


	9. Innocent

**Chapter Nine**

**[Wednesday] **

Everyone was quietly shoveling food into their mouths at the dinner table, except Tami, who had the wine bottle tilted forward to read the label. "I really should not be drinking wine five nights in a _row_," she said. "I usually only drink it two or three times a week, at book club and whenever Eric wants to _guarantee_ he gets - " She stopped and glanced at Julie.

"Gets what?" Julie asked.

"A good glass of wine," Tami finished.

Dale chuckled. "Glad you like it, Tami."

"I do." She poured herself some more. "This one is even better than the last one you brought. You're going to make a lush out of me."

Dale took a bite of his salad before asking Eric, "Any progress on that dinner invitation?"

Eric cut roughly at his meat. "Mr. Gouda is still out of town. Guess you'll be stuck with us awhile longer."

"That's okay. I've got to lay some more groundwork anyway. But within the next week, I hope?"

"I can't promise you anything."

At this point, Tami was looking at them both quizzically.

That night in bed, Eric told Tami what Dale was up to. He waited for her to express her shock and concern, but she only said, "Makes sense." She sat up slightly to search his eyes in the dim light seeping through the half opened blinds. "How are you? You must be worried about Moss."

He placed a hand on her cheek, the tips of his fingers lightly touching her hair. "How is it you can think of me and my feelings at a time like this? Aren't you worried about being caught up in this?"

"Dale seems competent. He's your brother. And if he's half the D.E.A. agent you are a coach…"

Eric smiled. "You always know how to make me feel better."

"That's my job, sugar."

He kissed her. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

She rested a hand on his hip and pressed her forehead to his. "You can't deserve me, Eric. I'm a free gift. Here for the taking."

He smiled. "Does that mean you want me to take you?"

She kissed his earlobe and whispered, "Yes."

"Now?"

"Mhmmmm….."

He nuzzled her ear, and asked, in his deepest southern drawl, "And how do you want me to take you?"

"You better take me gently tonight, Eric. Slowly. You know how innocent I am."

He chuckled, kissed her tenderly, and rolled her onto her back. Leaning down over her, he said, "Well, if you're so innocent, I better make sure you know what it's like to have every inch of your body kissed and caressed."

**[Thursday]**

Dale did not join them for dinner the next evening. He said he had to meet up with some guys from work for drinks. Eric waited up for his big brother, but at midnight, his eyelids were getting heavy. He slipped into bed next to Tami, who stirred.

"Dale's not back yet," he said.

She yawned as she rolled over to settle her head on his chest. "Well, Eric, I gave him a key, and he's a grown man."

"He probably picked up some woman and went back to her apartment."

"You sound jealous. Do you wish you could be out picking up some woman?"

He peered down at her. "I've got a woman in my bed right now."

"Yes you do, sugar. A very sleepy woman."

"I could tire you out even more." He kissed the top of her head.

"Maybe tomorrow," she murmured before drifting back to sleep.


	10. Caught

**Chapter Ten**

**[Friday]**

The first game of the season went well, which is to say, Moss gelled with the team and the Owls won.

Tami came down from the stands, threw herself around Eric's neck, and kissed him. "I'm so proud of you, babe."

The English teacher who had flirted with him at the in-service, Sarah Milton, approached and congratulated Eric on the game just after Tami slid from his arms. Eric introduced the two women.

"We met already in the stands," Tami said. "Dale sort of introduced us."

"He recognized me from the parking lot," Sarah said. "After the in-service." She smiled. "Remember that day?"

"Uh...yeah." Sarah wasn't going to start flirting with him again, was she, right here in front of his wife? "Well, I've got to go on in after the boys." He kissed Tami on the cheek. "See you in a bit."

When he walked out of the locker room later, chatting with Moss, he found Tami standing just outside. "Where's Dale and Julie?" he asked.

"He took my car and took her out for ice cream," Tami told him. "I figured I'd wait for you. Good game, Moss. That was an excellent touchdown pass."

"Thank you," Moss said, and then, "I mean, thank you, _ma'am_." He glanced toward the parking lot. "My dad's waiting for me over there. You guys – _y'all_ \- want to meet him?"

"Absolutely," Eric said, and took Tami's hand.

Mr. Gouda was two inches shorter and two shades tanner than his son. He spoke with a slight accent, but whether it was Egyptian or Virginian or something else, Eric didn't know. When he introduce Tami to the man, Mr. Gouda lifted her hand, in a very old-school fashion, and kissed the back of it. Tami seemed to like that a great deal, but Eric did not care for it one bit.

After they'd talked for a while, Eric told him, "Tami and I ought to have you over for dinner sometime. Schedule's kind of tight at the moment, what with school and the season having started and with me helping Moss with the extra sessions – "

" – Well then why doesn't your family join us for dinner at our house," Mr. Gouda suggested. "Tuesday night? You can have your training session with Moss afterward."

"We'd love that," Eric said.

Tami subtly drove a finger into Eric's gut. He glanced at her long enough to catch her rolling her eyes at him before she turned to Mr. Gouda and said, "Ammon – may I call you Ammon?"

Mr. Gouda smiled. "That is my name. I do not see why you should not call me it."

"The thing is, Ammon," Tami flashed her best southern belle smile, "My brother-in-law is in town visiting us. He's staying with us. Would you mind if we brought him along?"

"As they say, the more the merrier."

Tami insisted on driving the pick-up home to give Eric a break. "That was an intense game, hon. It must have worn you out."

He settled back against the head rest. "It did."

He was on the verge of relaxing when she said, "I think that English teacher is sweet on you."

He sat straighter. "What do you mean?"

"You _know_ what I mean. Sarah Milton. Don't pretend to be oblivious."

"She's harmless."

"Well, it seems you've got competition anyway." Tami rolled to a stop at a light.

"What?"

"Dale was flirting with her in the stands during the game."

"He's way too old for her," Eric said as the light turned green and the truck began rolling again.

"It wouldn't be the first time. A lot of women like sexy, confident, older men."

"You think Dale is sexy?"

"I think he's a good-looking man, Eric, like his brother. He has a successful career, knows how to compliment a woman, and he speaks _French_. I'm guessing he's not hurting for opportunities, even with women younger than me."

"That's just skeevy."

"Skeevy?"

"Skeevy. When Sarah was fifteen, he was probably thirty."

"Well, when she was fifteen, you were probably twenty, and I'm pretty sure you'd find it _skeevy_ if a twenty-year-old tried to date our daughter in four years. And yet _you've_ been flirting with Sarah."

"I have not been flirting with her."

Tami turned her head ever so slowly to scold him with her eyes. Then she returned her focus to the road.

"Okay, one time," he admitted. "One time I flirted with her." He held up a finger. "One time."

"It's okay, honey. Flirt all you want. Doesn't bother me."

He breathed a sigh of relief.

"Whatever you've got to do to deal with the fact that you're never, ever, _ever_ again going to have sex with anyone but _me_."

"Tami, you're like an entire harem of women anyway."

"Is that so?"

"And babe, it's game night. And the Owls won. You and I always have the best sex on winning game nights."

She put a hand on this thigh, in an almost-suggestive place. "We do usually have some pretty fantastic sex on winning game nights, don't we?"

"Yeah," he said with a huge grin.

She squeezed his thigh and then returned her hand to the steering wheel. "That's why it's such a shame that it probably won't be happening tonight."

"Awww, c'mon , Tami! I'm sorry, I didn't _mean_ to flirt with her. She started it."

"Oh, I believe you, Eric, and I understand completely. Sort of like Ammon Gouda started it with me tonight by kissing my hand. So charming. And I can't help it if he also happens to be easy on the eyes. _And_ rich. I don't see how I could help reciprocating. I don't see how I could possibly manage _not_ to flirt with him at dinner on Tuesday night."

"Don't."

She chuckled, low and amused.

"Tami, I'm serious. Please don't."

"Why not?" she asked innocently.

"I don't like it when you flirt with other men."

"Oh, you don't, do you? You don't like that?"

"A'igt," he said, settling his head back against the headrest and closing his eyes. "Message received."


	11. Spilling the Beans

**Chapter Eleven**

"You should meet my aunt Shelley," Julie said as she stabbed her spoon into the mountain of soft-serve ice cream. She was glad Uncle Dale had yanked her out of the stands the second the game was over, so she wouldn't have to wait around for Dad. And, unlike Dad, he hadn't told her _that's enough_ while she was filling her cup to overflowing. He also hadn't told her _only one more topping, Julie, that's enough!_ when they were at the make-it-yourself bar.

"Why's that?"

Aunt Shelley had just broken up with her boyfriend, and Julie thought she was lonely, and she also thought Uncle Dale seemed kind of lonely too. Uncle Dale had money, and Aunt Shelley never had any. It could be a good match. "Do you like blue-eyed blondes?"

Uncle Dale licked his spoon. "I like every hair and eye color the Good Lord has seen fit to put on the crown of creation." He took a sip from one of the clear, plastic cups of water he'd insisted on filling for both of them. "I've met your aunt Shelley already."

"You did?" Julie leaned forward and smiled. "Did you _like_ her?"

"The first time I met her, she was a baby."

"Oh." Julie sat back. She plucked a candy corn from off her ice cream and ate it. As far as she was concerned, her aunt and uncle were the same generation. After all, they were brother and sister to her parents. "But she's not a baby anymore! She's almost Mom's age now!"

Uncle Dale chuckled.

"What's so funny? "

"I was just thinking…I'm actually closer in age to your grandmother than I am to your aunt."

"To Nana Hayes? What? How?"

"Your grandmother was a secretary at my high school. She was 22 when I was 14. She used to bring your aunt Shelley to the office and put her in a bassinet right next to her desk. Until the principal told her she had to stop."

"What? That's silly, Uncle Dale. My aunt Shelley is four years younger than my mom, and Nana Hayes told me she didn't even get married until she was 22."

"Well…uh…Are those gummy worms?"

Julie looked into her cup. "They're coke bottles." She ate one. "I mean really, Uncle Dale. If she was 22 when she had my aunt Shelley, she would have had to have gotten pregnant with my mom when she was only 17, because a pregnancy takes nine months." Julie knew this and much more about sex and reproduction. After all, she'd had her first sex ed class last year in 5th grade, and her mom had given her _the talk_ along with a bunch of books and a promise to answer all of her questions frankly. Yes, a pregnancy took nine months. Julie stared at the rainbow sprinkles scattered on her ice cream and thought about when her own parents were married and when she was born. "Wait," she said. "My parents got married in June. If they got married in June, and I was born in January, that's only seven months!"

Uncle Dale must have gotten some ice cream stuck in his throat, because he started coughing. Then he took a sip of water and said, "Well I think, uh…I remember your dad saying you were premature."

"I was 8 pounds 6 ounces when I was born. That's what my baby card says."

"Well thank God you got out when you did, then, or you would have been enormous. Do you have enough ice cream? Did you get enough to eat there?"

Julie looked at her cup. She was feeling a little full, but the ice cream was so good. She took another bite. She was just starting to think about those seven months again when her uncle asked, "So you want to be in the F.B.I.?"

"Yeah. Because I could never work for the D.E.A."

"Why's that?"

"I think drugs should be legalized."

She expected Uncle Dale to say that was foolish and just dismiss her, but instead he asked, "Why's that?"

"Five reasons." She was planning to try out for the middle school debate team, and this had been one of the suggested pro/con topics. She'd researched it in the school library. "One, more tax revenue. Two, reduced organized crime. Three, lower enforcement costs. Four, people shouldn't go to jail for victimless crimes. Five, government abuses in the so-called War on Drugs. We have been fighting this war for nearly thirty years," she announced in her best debate voice. "And we haven't won. It's time to throw in the white flag."

"Well…" Uncle Dale pushed his half empty ice cream cup forward, "just don't throw it in quite yet. I've got less than five years until full retirement."

"You can retire before you're even 50? I thought people retired when they were like…70."

"I can retire with 25 years of service, and I started right out of college. I'll do something else after."

"But you agree with my points?" Julie had expected him to be more defensive.

"You have some good points. We could maybe legalize and regulate some of the softer drugs, but there's always a flip side."

"What? Tell me. I have to be ready when I debate this."

"They're discussing this in middle-school? In _Texas_? Really?"

Julie shrugged. "For debate."

"Well, legalization would lower the cost and risk of taking drugs and so likely increase consumption. And drugs really do ruin lives. I've seen it. And if manufacturing drugs becomes a legal way to make good profits, businesses might switch from investing in more useful production – like food – to investing in drug production instead. Also, Jules, these drug laws give us a lot of leverage to keep really bad guys behind bars. "

"Are you saying _no one_ is in jail just for smoking pot?"

"I'm saying if I'm going to get a federal prosecutor to bother to touch one of my cases, it has to be a lot bigger than some recreational marijuana use. And the DEA hired me even though I did a little pot back in high school. So did your – " He stopped speaking suddenly and concluded, "your average teenage idiot like me."

"Are you saying my dad smoked pot in high school?"

"I never said that. I did _not_ say that. I wasn't around when he was in high school. How could I even know? Do you need more water?" Uncle Dale stood up and looked at her water cup, which was three-fourths full. "I should top this off for you."


	12. The Last Summer of Brotherhood

**Chapter Twelve**

**[Saturday]**

"What are you doing? You've already got one in the chamber," Dale said.

"I _knew_ that." Eric stopped trying to rack the handgun. He shifted on his feet and took aim at the target. They were at an indoor gun range, which was good, because the rain was hitting the outside walls in violent sheets.

"You've got to line up the dot on the rear sight with the – "

"- I _know_ that."

"Is this how you talked to your coach when you were playing football?"

Eric squeezed one off. At least he'd hit the target, albeit low, and to the left of where a man's belly button might be. He shot four more times, and planted two in the silhouette, at about the shoulder blade, and two on the white paper to the left of the head. Then he stepped aside and watched Dale hit the heart three times, dead center, and then the forehead three times.

"Too bad you were aiming for his shoulder," Eric said with a smile.

Dale chuckled. "I'm sure I'd embarrass myself if we were throwing footballs through tires right now."

When they were later packing up their gear in the waiting room, and the sounds of shooting were faintly muffled, Eric asked, "You're going to be armed when we go to this dinner at the Goudas', aren't you?" He was nervous that something might happen, with his family right there in the crossfires.

"I'm always armed. Everywhere I go. But don't worry. Nothing's going to happen Tuesday night. Hapi doesn't know who I am, and he wouldn't risk anything violent even if he did. Drug smugglers like him rely on lawyers more often than guns. I would never put any of you in a dangerous situation."

Eric zipped up his duffle bag. "So, did you ask out Sarah?"

"Who?"

"The English teacher you were talking to at my game Friday night."

"She's too young for me." Dale dropped some empty ammo boxes in the recycling. "I like a woman with experience."

Eric smirked.

"_Life_ experience," Dale insisted.

"Well, Tami said you were really flirting with Sarah in the stands."

"Just like _you_ were that one day. It's flattering, the attention of a pretty young woman. But I had no intention of acting on it."

"Well that's not very nice," Eric said. "Leading her on like that."

"What are you? Her big brother?"

"Nah, if I were, I'd tell you stay the hell away from her."

Dale laughed and zipped up his duffle bag. "Lock up your daughters," he joked as they began walking toward the sinks. "Dale Taylor is in town." As he was scrubbing up, he said, "Listen, last night, when I took Julie out for ice cream, I mentioned Tami's mother bringing baby Shelley to the office when I was in high school. And…I got the impression Julie thought her grandmother got married before your wife was born, and that Tami and Shelley have the same father, and I just want to say, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to let anything slip."

"Great. Just great." Eric pumped soap onto his hands. "That's going to be fun to explain."

Tami's mom Patty had been a bit of a rebel-rouser in her youth. She'd gotten pregnant in high school, had planned on adoption, but, in the end, hadn't been able to let go of Tami. Tami's dad, a high school dropout, had skipped town as soon as he was told of the pregnancy. For a time, Patty and the baby lived rent free with a generous-hearted Midland High English teacher who saw to it that Patty earned her high school degree and got a job as a school secretary.

Tami's mom went on to get pregnant a second time, this time by a young soldier who had returned to Midland after the close of the Vietnam War. Bobby Hayes, however, had the decency to marry her before Shelley was born, and Patty Hayes "found Jesus" a year after that. So Tami had grown up with a mother who had the fervor of a new convert. Patty Hayes had since mellowed in her religion, become less a fundamentalist, but she'd once told Tami she could go to hell for so much as thinking about having sex with a boy. Tami had thrown her mother's two unwed pregnancies right back in her face, and Mrs. Hayes had told her she'd learned from her mistakes so Tami didn't have to repeat them.

Bobby Hayes had been a more laid-back parent, a gentle, soft-spoken man that one would never suspect of being a warrior. Tami considered him to be her father as much as Shelley's, because he'd treated them with equal affection. She was heartbroken when he died in a car crash during her junior year of college. Eric had been her anchor in that sea of grief.

"A lot of the high school boys had it bad for Patty," Dale said. "I mean they used to walk by the front office, you know, with that big open window, and – "

"- Ugh!" Eric thrust the handle of the sink back and the water stopped. "That's disgusting, Dale."

"Come on! I know by the time you were in high school, she was 32 and modest and ultra-religious, but my freshman year, she was 22. She wore these short skirts and those tight tops, and she worked hard to get back into shape after - "

"- Stop! Just stop right there, right now, and don't say another word. That's my mother-in-law you're talking about. That's just _vile_."

Dale laughed. He ripped a paper towel down from the roll above the sink and dried his hands. "Julie also figured out it was only seven months from the time you guys got married to the time she was born."

"What the hell, Dale?" Eric violently tore off a paper towel. "Were you just revealing _all_ the family secrets last night?"

"Hey," Dale said. "Julie figured out the seven month thing all on her own. I covered for you. I told her she was premature."

"Tami and I were going to get married that summer anyway. " Eric tossed the paper towel in the trash. "Anything else I should know you told her?"

Dale shook his head. "Not that I recall."

They made a mad dash through the rain to the Charger, hastily throwing their gear in the trunk and then climbing inside. Dale started the car, and sports radio piped through the system. Eric had changed the station on the way over. Dale had been listening to NPR.

"So you're really not interested in Sarah?" Eric asked when his brother had started driving. "Tami said a sexy guy like you could date any woman, no problem."

"Did she?" Dale turned off his windshield wipers. The rain had stopped suddenly. "Those were her words?"

"More or less. But, she's probably right, huh? You've got to have a few notches on your belt by now."

"Not as many as you. I was no football star."

"What? Come on. I haven't been with anyone except Tami since I was eighteen. You're ten years older than me." Eric put on his sunglasses as light broke through the clouds. "And you've _never_ been married."

Dale gripped the steering wheel, hit the accelerator hard, and passed two cars on the right before zipping up a ramp to the highway, the engine roaring.

Eric wondered why he seemed so angry, and then he remembered the broken engagement. He felt bad for inadvertently poking that old wound. Eric had barely known Cindy. She'd been a part of Dale's post-Midland life, and Eric largely hadn't. In fact, the last time he'd spent more than four days with his brother, Dale had been just eighteen.

Both of their parents worked full-time, and that was the last summer Dale looked after him. For those eleven weeks, Dale fixed Eric's breakfast, made him lunch, took him swimming, and drove him to Pee Wee football camp and back. He tossed Eric the baseball in the backyard, built him a tree house, taught him how to use a saw and hammer safely, and showed him how to ride his bike with no hands. He read aloud to Eric _Treasure Island_, _The_ _Jungle Book_, _Old Yeller_, _Robin Hood, King Arthur_, and _The Little Prince_. Dale took him fishing and canoeing and they went plinking cans, Eric with his BB gun and Dale with his rifle. That was a summer of bliss, as far as Eric was concerned, that final summer of brotherhood.

Oh, sure, he'd seen Dale since then, of course, on and off over the years – Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter (but never all three in one year); funerals, weddings, and other major family events. But ever since Eric's big brother stepped out the front door of their lower-middle-class house in Midland, Texas on that dry, hot August day, and waved goodbye from his Volkswagen as he headed off to college, he hadn't spent much time looking back.


	13. Movie Night

**Chapter Thirteen**

[**Sunday Afternoon]**

Tami slid the broom behind the refrigerator and thanked Dale for helping with the dishes.

"Well thank you for the lovely lunch. And for hosting me."

"I'm sorry you couldn't join us for church this morning." He had already been gone when she woke up at 7 AM to go for her morning jog.

"I had to work a shift doing some surveillance on the warehouse where Gouda receives his import shipments." Dale placed a plate in the dishwasher. "I assume Eric's told you all about the case. I assume he tells you everything."

Tami nodded. "I can't imagine much was happening at the warehouse on a Sunday morning."

"No, but that's why it might have been the opportune time for an exchange between Hapi and whoever he has on the unpacking side." Dale turned off the kitchen sink and closed the dishwasher. "Unfortunately nothing happened. With any luck, I'll find out more when we go to dinner Tuesday night."

Tami leaned back against the countertop and crossed her arms. "I had a very interesting conversation with my daughter this morning, about ages and birth dates and wedding dates."

Dale stopped drying his hands and folded the kitchen towel in half slowly. He placed it on the countertop with a sheepish smile. "Tami, I honestly didn't mean to…I just…"

Tami gave him a scolding look. "I suppose we would have had to address her birthday sooner or later. Although I might never have had to have that conversation about her nana."

"I'm really sorry."

She chuckled. "Well, the conversation wasn't easy. But I did my best."

Dale rested a hand on the countertop. "What did you say?"

"I just emphasized that sometimes people make mistakes, and Nana Hayes eventually matured and chose a more responsible course, and Eric and I were already engaged when I got pregnant with her."

"Were you?"

"Well, we weren't _officially_ engaged, but we'd been together for four years by then. We talked about the future. I think Eric didn't want to propose until he had a teaching and coaching job lined up, especially after he didn't get drafted."

Dale shook his head. "That must have been hard for him, getting passed over. He was so close."

"He felt like a failure. He was afraid it would make me think less of him, but it didn't. Honestly, I was relieved. I don't know how either of us would have handled that lifestyle. Things haven't been glamorous for us, but they've been _good_."

"It's a nice thing you two have going. I see that. Kind of surprises me...given."

"Given what?" Tami asked.

"My father wasn't the best example of a husband. Let's just leave it at that."

"Your mother cheated on _him_. Not the other way around."

The affair had happened during Eric's freshman year of college, but he didn't learn about it until his sophomore year, when his father announced, quite unceremoniously, over Thanksgiving dinner, that he was filing for a divorce. He told Eric's mother that after they had finished eating, she should clean up the dishes and pack her bags.

"Yeah, well, that sort of thing seldom arises in a vacuum does it? You're a counselor."

She nodded. "I'm aware there was a context. But Eric was still shocked, and, I think, fairly disappointed in her. I think it made him a little uneasy about us."

"Well, Eric's not our father. He _could_ have been. God knows my dad tried to make him over in his image, but he's not. He's made a much better go of it." Dale smiled weakly. "I can't help but envy him you."

"I hope you're not flirting with me," Tami said with a twinkle in her eye.

"Eric did say you thought I was sexy."

"Oh, good Lord, he did not tell you that, did he?"

Dale laughed. "He did. And it's flattering you'd say that."

"I didn't mean it. I mean, you are, but _I_ don't think you are."

Dale laughed again.

"I mean, I think you're quite capable of attracting other - oh, good Lord." She flushed and shook her head.

"No worries, Tami. I think thirty-seven is my lower limit on women." Tami was turning thirty-four this fall. "And then there's that whole thing about not coveting your brother's wife. I only meant I envy him his marriage. In the abstract. It must be nice, to have something..._real_ like you two have."

Tami smiled. "Is there a potential Mrs. Dale Taylor in the future?"

"I'm forty-three. I think it's a little late for that. I'm probably set in my ways by now."

"Yeah, well, that's why I got Eric while he was young," Tami joked. "So I could mold him."

"You're not a bad potter." Dale glanced in the direction of the living room. "Why don't I take Julie to the movies so you and Eric can have an evening alone together, as an apology for my big mouth? And I promise – I won't spill anymore secrets."

**[Sunday Evening]**

"Are you sure your parents let you watch PG-13 movies?" Uncle Dale started fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Maybe I should just call your dad and check."

"Of course they let me," Julie insisted. "I'm a middle-schooler!"

The person in front of them in the ticket line left the window. Uncle Dale stepped forward. "Two tickets for Batman Begins. One adult and one…" He glanced down at her. "Middle-schooler."

"How old is she? " The woman behind the window asked. "If she's less than twelve, it's the child rate."

Julie would not turn twelve until January. Uncle Dale apparently didn't remember her age, because he said, "I'll just pay the adult rate."

Julie's uncle got them a large popcorn to share, and large cokes, _and_ her favorite movie candy of all time – non-parallels. They were five minutes early to the movie. Julie wolfed down a handful of popcorn and asked, "Did my mom smoke pot too, or just my dad?"

Uncle Dale just about spilled his coke putting it back into the cup holder. "Jules, I have no idea what you're talking about. I don't know anything about that. All I said was that _I_ had smoked a little. A _little_. Maybe three or four times. And then I realized how foolish it was. Luckily you're a smart one, and I'm sure _you'll_ never touch it. Right?"

"What's it like? How does it make you feel?"

"Hungry. And stupid. It's not worth it. Trust me." Uncle Dale looked at her cautiously. "You're a smart kid, right?"

Julie shrugged. Then she asked, "What was my dad like when he was my age?"

"Uh…12? I don't really remember, honestly. I was 22. I'd just started my new job. I didn't see him much that year. Actually, I think I was only home once that year, for Christmas. He was a sweet kid when he was little. Then I think maybe he let his popularity with football and all that go to his head for a while. But he's a good family man now. I can see that. You're lucky to have a dad like him. You know that?"

Julie shrugged.

"Well you should. I would have loved to have had a dad like that."

"Grandpa wasn't a good dad?"

Uncle Dale looked down at his straw in his cup. He coughed and took a sip. He looked back at her and asked, "Do you and your grandfather get along well?"

Julie shrugged again. "He's okay I guess. We don't see him all that often. I saw Gammy Taylor a lot more. Before she died, I mean. I miss her."

"So do I."

"That was the last time I saw you. At her funeral. That was like…three years ago. Why do we hardly ever see you?"

"Well, I've been in Cairo, and before – "

Julie folded her legs under herself to sit higher in the seat. "Shh!" she insisted. "Previews are starting."

**[FNL]**

Eric was not conscious of the litany he uttered in praise of the wondrous work of his wife. The words just spilled out of him, without reason, without restraint. There was _yes_ and _oh yes_ and _hell yes_; _god_ and _oh god_ and _god yes_; _Tami_ and _baby_ and _Tami, babe_; _bad girl_ and _good girl_ and _naughty girl_; _that_ and _oh, that_ and _just like that_ and a dozen more.

He was still trembling when she rose from her knees and kissed his cheek. "Does that make up for your sexless game night, sugar?"

He couldn't answer. He could barely breathe.

She left him standing, slumped, against the dresser while she went to the master bathroom.

As the water swooshed on in the bathroom, he stepped out of his pants and boxers, which were piled around his ankles. He yanked his shirt off over his head and slid in to bed.

She came out of the master bathroom naked. His eyes roamed her gorgeous form. The only pastor who would agree to marry them, after they'd been shacking up and Tami was already pregnant , was an Episcopalian minister who used the traditional Anglican vows. When he put the ring on Tami's finger, Eric had been told to say, "With my body, I thee worship." He'd though it was a strange vow at the time, but he understood it now.

She slid gracefully beneath the covers, sat facing him, and rested one hand on his hip.

"Thank you," he managed, still breathing a little unevenly. "That was….I don't even have the words." She smiled, and he thought he might fall in love with her, right now, like he had when he was eighteen. "Your turn?"

"Later." Tami ran a hand up from his hip and over his chest. "You feel so tight." She dug a thumb into a constricted muscle in his shoulder. "How can your muscles still feel so tense after that?" she asked.

"I don't know. Maybe it's because I've been worried about the dinner at the Goudas'. I don't want you or Julie there. I'll say you're both sick."

She looked in his eyes. "That's going to look weird, Eric, to have your whole family invited and only you and Dale show up."

"I don't want you two involved in any of that."

"We'll send Julie to Maria's for dinner, but I'm coming with you."

"Tami – "

"- Dale said there was nothing to worry about. He's been doing this job for twenty years. I think you can trust him."

"Can I? I don't even _know_ him. When I was still in grammar school, he was in college. In the past twelve years, I've only seen him five times."

"Well, he's here now," Tami said, and kissed his shoulder.

"Yeah. Until this case is over. Until I've served my purpose."

"Come on, Eric. He also went shooting with you. He went to your game and your practice."

"Sure, to watch Moss. Because his suspect is Moss's servant."

"And he's been doing things with Julie, trying to be an uncle to her." She put a hand on his cheek. "I know you wish you were closer to your brother. But you know, it's not all his fault. It's not like you pick up the phone and call him all the time."

"Because every time I did call, when I was in junior high, he'd be off the phone in five minutes. Always had to get to work or something."

She lowered her hand back to his hip. "And it's not like you've ever flown out to L.A. or New York or Cairo or wherever he was living."

"We could never afford that!" Eric insisted. "I don't make what he makes, and I've always had a wife and kid to think about!"

"You also don't like to leave Texas, sugar. We didn't even leave Texas for our honeymoon."

"Corpus Christi was nice, wasn't it?"

"I'm not complaining. I'm just pointing out that it takes two to tango."

Eric shook his head. "I'll just be glad when this case is over and he's gone."

"Will you?"

When Eric didn't answer, Tami lay her head against his chest.

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her. "I love you, Tami."

"I love you, too." She lay there for a while, lazily caressing his upper leg with one hand. Eventually, she rolled over onto her back. "My turn."


	14. Dinner with the Goudas

**Chapter Fourteen**

Eric placed a protective hand on the small of Tami's back when they entered the Goudas' house. He wanted to keep her nearby.

Dale barely glanced at Hapi when the servant answered the door, nor did he show any obvious interest in the man throughout the evening. Instead, he seemed most fascinated by Mr. Gouda's paintings and arty nick nacks. Dale kept asking questions: "Is this from the Ming dynasty period? Is that an original? Why that looks like…" until Mr. Gouda finally offered to take him on a tour of the entire house.

At dinner, Mr. Gouda asked Dale how he knew so much about art.

"Well," Dale answered, "I was an art history minor in college."

That much was true. Dale hadn't lied about much tonight, except when he pretended to have come from New York instead of Cairo and to be a French tutor instead of a DEA agent.

It had been a joke to their father, Dale's French major and art history minor. "What's he going to do with that useless degree?" Dad had said. "Thank God we're not paying for it, because I'm sure as hell not paying for any son of mine to dance around paintings speaking French. No wonder he didn't want to play football. Little pansy might have gotten hurt."

And Mom said, "Stop it, Frank. Dale has his own interests, and I'm sure he'll find a job. He's clever and he could do all sorts of things. I could have too, if I had gone to college."

"Are you still bitter about that, sweetheart?" Dad asked her. "I wasn't the reason you couldn't go. _Dale_ was the reason, technically, when you think about it."

"Well maybe I'll go _now_," she said. "I don't have any babies anymore. Eric is almost ten."

"It's a little late for that, don't you think, Nancy? Just stick with your receptionist job."

Eric's father hadn't gone to college either. He'd been signed as a rare free agent to the AFL, but he hadn't lived up to his initial promise. After a single season, his contract wasn't renewed. For the next two years, Eric's mom and dad (along with a young Dale) lived off of their savings and Mom's meager income, while Dad played amateur football, didn't earn anything, and waited to be picked up by a professional team again. When the bank accounts were all exhausted, and the debt began to pile up, Dad finally applied to attend the police academy. His career on the Midland police department advanced at a snail's pace. So when Dale graduated from college, and the next week went to FLETC, and within one year after that was, as a DEA agent, already making as much money as his father, Mom said, "See, I told you Dale would do fine. And aren't you proud of him? He chose law enforcement too. He's following in your footsteps."

"Being a cop was not my calling," Dad scoffed. "Eric's the one following in my footsteps. He's and even better player than I was, and this time, the Taylors aren't getting overlooked. A Taylor is going to be playing for the NFL."

"Pardon me, but where's your restroom?" Dale asked now. Mr. Gouda told him, and Dale excused himself from the table.

An uneasy feeling twisted and tumbled in Eric's stomach. Hapi was still in the room, serving as a kind of footman, and Eric wondered if he suspected Dale at all. He was busy refilling water glasses.

The dining room wall clock ticked and a cuckoo shot forth, clucking the hour. Eric leapt a little in his seat, laughed, and put a hand over his chest. Mr. Gouda chuckled, as did Tami. She gave Eric a sympathetic look. How could she be so calm through this entire dinner while he was so tense? Perhaps because it was _his_ job to protect _her_.

To Eric, it seemed Dale was gone a very long time before he finally returned to the table.

"If you're done eating, want to go run a few plays?" Moss asked Eric when Dale had sat back down.

Eric didn't like leaving Tami in the house alone, and he hesitated. Tami must have known why, because she insisted, "Go on. You boys get some work done. Dale and Mr. Gouda can keep me company." She looked at him pointedly, as though to suggest he was being silly, and maybe she was right. Neither of these two men was going to let her get gunned down, and Hapi appeared rather harmless.

"We'll have dessert in about an hour," Mr. Gouda said. "You can rejoin us then."

Eric followed Moss outside. Once they started working, Eric forgot his worries and lost himself in the beauty of the game, half coaching Moss and half just playing with him, until his arm started aching. He sat down on one of the large, decorative rocks in the Goudas' backyard and circled his shoulder in a painful stretch. Moss sat on a rock next to him.

"Old football injury?" he asked. "Is that why you never went pro? I heard you were _really_ good. Coach Ramsey mentioned it."

"Nah. I never had a major injury that kept me from playing. Guess I'm just not twenty anymore." Eric hadn't expected the soreness to creep up on him like that. He was only in his early thirties, after all, but he hadn't thrown the ball quite that much in a long while. "I didn't go pro because I wasn't quite good enough."

"But Coach said they started you your _freshman_ year! And he was talking about that spectacular play you made, when the Aggies – "

"- I played a hell of a lot better my freshman and sophomore year than I did after that. Whatever reputation I'd earned, I lost my junior year. It was a bad year for me. I don't know why. I just couldn't seem to get my head in the game."

Eric did know why, even if he didn't say it. He'd found out about his mom's affair toward the end of his sophomore season, and his parents had officially gotten divorced the summer before his junior year. He couldn't comprehend it. His mother had finally gone to college, as she'd long wanted to, when Eric started college himself. She'd pursued an associate's degree in business administration, and it was one of her professors who became her lover. She was 50 at the time, and Eric, at not quite 20, couldn't even imagine sex at that age. Nor could he imagine his mother betraying his father. He knew his father was far from being an ideal husband, but the man didn't beat, and he didn't cheat, and he earned a living.

Dale had taken their mother's side, had told Eric, "What can you expect? The way he treats her?"

"But you must know how Dad feels," Eric had said, and instantly regretted it.

"That's completely different. I treated Cindy right. I didn't neglect her, or criticize her, or….I adored her. When was the last time Dad even complimented Mom? Can you remember?"

Eric hadn't taken anyone's side, but it had disturbed him deeply, the thought that his mother could stray from her vows, that a couple could be married for thirty years and yet the marriage could still end. Before he'd learned about the affair, he'd already been planning to propose to Tami. In fact, they'd begun to talk in some detail about the future, without actually being engaged. He thought he'd propose officially the same day he got drafted, because, at the time, everyone – Tami included – believed he would. But then he started thinking – what was the point of marriage, really, if your wife could just jilt you for another, any day, any moment, after two kids and three decades?

Tami held his hand through the divorce of his parents, the way he'd held hers through the death of her stepfather. "Divorce is a kind of death," Tami told him. "It's okay for you to mourn." His game improved his senior year, but by then it was too late. A younger quarterback had taken the limelight. And when he wasn't drafted, Eric was even more hesitant to propose. Tami had expected the life of a professional football player's wife, hadn't she? The house, the cars, the shoes, the pool. There wasn't going to be any of that. In the spring of his senior year, he was looking at a job at a junior high in Temple – where he could teach P.E., Public Speaking, and Shop and get paid just $21,000, with a mere $850 stipend to assistant coach the football team. He was supposed to be making over ten times that in the NFL. He thought maybe he wouldn't propose after all, that he'd wait and earn some money first and claw his way up coaching and then see if she still wanted him. But then she told him she was pregnant. He knew he could never be just her boyfriend, when he was already the father of her child.

The sun was setting in soft hues over the lake when he proposed, and the row boat rocked gently on the water. He'd rested the oars, and he and Tami were just floating, unanchored, drifting somewhere without direction. He fished out the ring. The diamond was twice what he could afford. He'd had to borrow half the money from Dale. That phone call to his brother had been embarrassing, but Dale had wired the money the next morning.

"Tami," he said, and gripped the ring tightly, for fear of somehow losing it in the water. He couldn't kneel, not in the boat, but he bowed with his eyes, looked at the floorboards instead of her face. "I love you. And I think I'm going to get that job, the one I told you about. I know it's not much, but...anyway..." He finally looked up, "will you marry me?"

She just nodded and held out her hand for the ring.

"You're not going to have the life you once imagined," he told her as she looked at the engagement ring he'd just slid on her finger.

"I imagined a life with a man who loves me," she said softly, "and a man _I_ love. A man I respect, not because he can play football, but because he's good to me, and he's faithful, and he's honorable, and he works hard at whatever he tries to do. What did _you_ imagine?"

Eric leaned forward, rested a hand gently on her hip, and pressed his forehead against hers. "I imagined I was worthy of you." He kissed her deeply; the boat swayed and half tipped, and they laughed and righted it.

"So you became a coach instead?" Moss asked now.

"So I became a coach," Eric answered. "And a teacher."

"I don't have any illusions about going pro. But I thought I might get a scholarship, maybe."

"Maybe," Eric said. "You've got another full year, and you're already damn good, son. And if you don't, well…" He looked toward the massive house and laughed.

"Yeah, I'd kind of like to make it on my own, though," Moss said. "It's always felt weird to me, all this. We didn't use to have all this. And when we didn't…I had my dad around more. Now he's just busy with the business. Gone half the time, to Egypt, France, Germany….all over."

"Well, he came to your game."

"He won't be at the next."

Eric patted him on his back. "I'll be there. Your team will be there. That's a family right there." He stood up. "I think we've still gotten minutes before dessert. Let me see you run a few more."

After the plays, before they went back inside for dessert, Moss paused on the shaded portico. "Thanks for taking so much time to work with me, Coach Taylor. No one's ever taken that much trouble for me before. Lately I've felt like…well, like I've been walking under the radar. Invisible."

"You weren't invisible when you made that pass Friday night, son." Of course, when this drug bust went down, Moss was perhaps going to _wish_ he was invisible. Eric clapped a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You're a good kid. Whatever happens, remember that. You're a good kid."

"Thanks, Coach."

When they returned to the table, everything appeared peaceful and normal, except that Mr. Gouda had pulled his chair a bit closer to Tami's and had leaned in to speak with her. Dale was standing on the other side of the dining room table, his back to them, examining a painting on the wall. Hapi was gone from the room, presumably to fetch the dessert.

On the drive home, Eric said to Tami, "You know, not that I'm bothered, but you did promise you wouldn't flirt with Moss's dad."

"Eric, I was not flirting with Ammon. I was politely maintaining a conversation with him."

"If you _were_ flirting," Dale said from the back seat of Tami's sedan, "you should recall that he's inadvertently employing a drug smuggler. You might want to set your sights on a clean-cut kid like Eric instead."

Tami reached out a hand to stroke Eric's cheek. "Not so clean cut at the moment. But the five o'clock shadow _is_ kind of sexy."

"Are you two kids going to need this back seat?" Dale asked. "Should I be the one driving?"


	15. A Brotherly Conversation

_**A/N: Comments have tapered off, so I am slowing down my updates just a little to give people time to catch up. I hope everyone is still enjoying the story. I'm having fun with this one. **_

**Chapter Fifteen**

Eric couldn't sleep after Tami fell asleep. He went to the kitchen for a beer and found his brother sitting at the kitchen table, typing away on his laptop. It was a big, bulky thing, not nearly as streamlined as the one Tami had recently bought for her new job. "Is that a spy computer?" Eric asked as he opened the fridge.

"No, I just work for the federal government. We're always at least five years behind in technology. You should see my cell phone. It still has an exterior antenna." Dale closed the screen of his laptop.

Eric walked to the table and handed his brother a beer. "I'm going to the living room if you want to join me. I think I left the bottle opener on the end table."

They settled onto the couch. Eric popped off his beer cap and then handed the opener to his brother, whose beer cap flew under the couch. Dale bent down to fish it out, and instead came up with Tami's red panties hooked around his finger. He laughed. "You dog, you."

Eric flushed, grabbed them off his brother's finger, and shoved them in his pocket of his pants. He assumed Tami had gone back for those that night Julie had interrupted them. Apparently she'd forgotten. When was the last time either of them had vacuumed _under_ the couch?

Dale smirked. "Does Tami know?"

"They _are_ Tami's."

"I know. I'm kidding you." Dale shook his head and chuckled. "Red and lacy and skimpy _and_ under the living room couch. And all my friends told me I dodged a bullet back in L.A., because supposedly there _is_ no sex after marriage."

Eric was surprised to hear Dale mention the breakup. It was a subject that had always seemed untouchable. It happened in April of Eric's senior year of high school. He had just turned 18 at the time, and he'd been dating Tami for three and a half months. For the first time, he was in love. He'd experienced lust before, infatuation, even affection, but nothing quite like this. He couldn't help but tell Dale all about her when his big brother called home. But Dale had cut him off after the third "Tami" and said – "Listen. Do me a favor, little brother. Tell Mom and Dad Cindy called the wedding off and we're breaking up. I don't want to have to tell them myself."

Eric had stuttered, wanted to ask why, but been unable to ask. "You a'ight, Dale?" he'd finally managed.

"Sure," his brother had said, his voice sounding distant and hollow. "Who wants a ball and chain, anyway? You wouldn't believe how many beautiful women there are in L.A. Besides, you won the State Championship, so you've earned the only ring Dad cares about. He'll still have one son to make him proud. I gotta go." And then he hung up.

All these years, and they'd never discussed it, not really. "What happened there, exactly?" Eric asked now.

"With Cindy?"

"Yeah."

"You know what happened. She left me for another man."

"But why?"

Dale shrugged. "She fell in love with someone else. What's a guy to do?"

_Fight for her_, Eric thought. He sure as hell would have fought for Tami, if she'd tried to walk away three weeks before their wedding date.

At least he _thought_ he thought it, but he must have said it out loud, because Dale asked, "Fight who? Fight her? It was her choice! Fight him? What? Pistols at dawn?"

"Dale…" Eric didn't know what to say.

Dale took a swig of his beer. "It wasn't so much that she left me for another man," he said, "as it was that I believed in her. I believed in _us_. I thought we were...I thought we were like you and Tami are now. And if I was wrong about something as important as that, then what else might I be wrong about? Who else?"

"Is that why you've never gotten married?"

"Maybe."

"Has there ever even been anyone else serious? I mean, you've never mentioned any woman at all."

"You've never asked."

"A'ight," Eric said. "Well I'm asking now."

"After Cindy left me, I just threw myself into my career. I took all the overtime I possibly could. I didn't date again at all until I moved to New York. Then I saw this one woman for years, but I knew it was never going to go anywhere. We weren't seeing anyone else, at least I wasn't, but we weren't exactly serious about each other either. Like me, she was married to her career. She was just interested in occasional companionship. She never loved me and I never loved her, but the sex was enjoyable and if either of us needed someone to go to the theater with…." He shrugged. "It ended when I moved to Cairo."

"Are you seeing anyone now?"

He nodded. "An Egyptian woman who works in the DEA Cairo foreign office as a local translator. We've been seeing each other for three years. She's a widow, but she's my age - well, two years younger. She's pretty and she's smart."

"You love her?" Eric asked.

"I'm fond of her."

"Fond? What the hell does that mean, fond?"

"She _says_ she loves me, but I think she might be looking for her come-to-America ticket. She knows I only have one or two more years in Cairo before they'll move me back to the States. So I'm going to enjoy her company for as long as I'm living there. But I won't be marrying her and bringing her to America just so she can divorce me two years later."

"She can't have been pretending to love you for _three years_, Dale."

"Why not? Cindy did for nine."

Had Dale and Cindy really been together that long? Eric did the math in his head, and was shocked to realize it was true. They'd started dating Dale's sophomore year of college. They lived together in Miami, and he'd been waiting to propose until she finished law school. Then they'd had a long engagement in L.A.. Dale had only brought her to Midland three times in all those years, so she hadn't seemed like part of the family to Eric, but nine years? That was like a _marriage_. Hell, that was only three years less than he'd been married to Tami.

"Cindy wasn't pretending all those years," Eric assured him. "Sometimes things don't work out. That doesn't mean there wasn't something real there at one time."

"If Tami told you tomorrow that she's been secretly seeing someone for the past four months, and that she already loves him more than she loves you, and that – in point of fact- she's no longer sure she _ever_ loved you - what would that do to your reality?"

"Cindy said that?"

"I told her that _of course_ she loved me. How could she have lived with me in Miami if she didn't love me? How could she have followed me to L.A.? How could she have said yes to my proposal? And she said, _I guess I didn't want to hurt your feelings_. And then she told me that the way she felt for him – she'd never felt like that for me. It wasn't that her feelings for me had faded over the years. She'd just never felt like that. Not even in the beginning. Never."

"Damn. Dale…I'm sorry. Who the hell breaks up like that?"

"Can we not talk about this?"

"A'ight." Eric sipped his beer and then changed the topic. "Find anything useful at Gouda's house?"

Dale angrily drained his beer and slammed the bottle on the coffee table. "I found the drugs."

"Seriously?"

"Which means I've got to get to bed. Because at the crack of dawn, we'll be hitting the house."

"Where did you find them?"

"You remember that Egyptian rug I was admiring?"

"No."

"Well, when I went to the bathroom – "

" – I figured you were up to something then."

"…And Hapi was busy serving you in the dining room, I took a peek. There's a trap door underneath, and a crawl space. Moss told me that Hapi set up the house for them, before they even moved in. He went ahead of them, and got the furniture arranged. I bet Ammon Gouda doesn't even know that trap door is there. Hapi is hiding them under that door until he can connect with his Texas distributor."

"How are you going to prove he put them there instead of Gouda?"

"Like I said, I don't think Gouda even knows about the door. That rug was put over it before he ever moved in. I bet there's only one set of fingerprints on that handle. Well, besides mine."

As Dale retreated down the hallway toward the guest bedroom, Eric sat starring at the turned-off TV, thinking. When he eased into bed next to Tami a few minutes later, he kissed her cheek and whispered, "I love you."

She stirred. She turned instinctively into his embrace. He caressed her arm with gentle tickles until her eyelids fluttered open. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing," he said, "I was just saying I love you."

"You woke me up to tell me that? I _know_ that." She rolled back away from him and pulled the cover up to her chin.

"What could make you leave me?" he asked.

She pushed the cover down a bit and rolled abruptly over. "What?"

"What could make you leave me?"

"Did you lose your job?"

"No. Nah. No, I didn't lose my job. Why would I lose my job?"

"I don't know, but if you did lose your job, we'll figure something out. I've still got a job, and you can find another one."

"I didn't lose my job!"

"Did you get too friendly with Sarah at school yesterday?"

"Nah! No. I don't…I don't flirt with her, Tami. Anymore. I swear. I say hi. That's all I say."

"Then where is this question coming from?"

"It's just…a hypothetical. I just want to know."

"Well, I'll tell you what, Eric, keep it in your pants, and don't gamble away our life savings, and I think you'll be just fine."

"That's it?"

"And bring me flowers on occasion. It wouldn't kill you to bring me flowers more often."

"A'ight."

"I've invested a lot of time in you, you know. If you think you're getting rid of me easily at this point, you've got another think coming."

"I don't want to get rid of you, babe."

"Good." She leaned in and kissed him. "I love you, too. You _know_ that, right?"

"Mhmmmm," he murmured.

She kissed him again.

When she pulled away, he said, his voice low, "I _do_ know you love me, but I can think of something that would persuade me even more."

"You mean if next time I happen on you sleeping, I lovingly let you _keep_ sleeping?"

"A'ight. 'Nite, Tami."

"'Nite, sugar."


	16. Losing Trust

**Chapter Sixteen**

**[Wednesday]**

When Eric awoke the next morning, Dale was gone. He had an enormous urge to call Moss, to see if the boy was okay, but he knew better than to do that on the morning of the raid. Who knew where the D.E.A. was in the process? He hoped Dale didn't hit the house until after Moss was at school and Mr. Gouda was at work, but the D.E.A. probably thought time was of the essence. Maybe the raid was already over.

When he arrived at school, Eric stuck his head into Sarah Milton's first period English class just before the bell rang and scoured the classroom with his eyes.

Sarah flashed him a warm smile. "Hi, Eric," she said as she walked passed the first row of desks to the open doorway. When she got to the doorway, she asked how she could help him.

"I was just looking for one of my players. Moss Gouda. He has your class first period, doesn't he?"

"Yes. The front office said his father called him in sick today."

"A'ight. Thanks."

He was about to turn to go, but she asked, "How's your brother? I enjoyed talking to him in the stands on Friday."

"Uh…." Eric scratched the back of his head. "He's a'right. Did he mention to you that he has a …a girlfriend? Back in…" Eric almost said Egypt but ended with "New York."

"Yeah, he mentioned it. Eventually."

"Good. Well, I've got to get to my Sociology class. You have a good morning."

He had trouble concentrating on the class and was grateful for the planning period that followed. He called Dale, thinking that surely the raid must be over by now, but got only his voice mail and ended up leaving a message.

**[FNL]**

"Where's Gouda?" Coach Arnold asked as he walked up the sideline toward Eric at the start of afternoon practice.

"Out sick from school today," Eric answered.

"And did you tell him he's not allowed to get sick two days before a game?"

"He'll be back tomorrow," Eric assured him, even though he had no way of knowing whether or not that was true. "He's just going to need a recovery day." And what a thing to recover from – discovering your family servant was a drug smuggler.

After practice, as he was getting in his truck, Eric checked his voice mail. When he saw Dale's number, he eagerly retrieved the message and listened nervously.

"Hey, brother. Raid went down at 6 AM. No one got hurt. A five thousand dollar vase got broke by some idiot, but, other than that, no issues. The drugs were still under the trap door, thank God. We're still searching the house for more evidence and processing fingerprints and probably a mountain of paperwork tonight. I'll be back late."

Eric called Moss next, but got no answer. He left a message. The boy didn't call back all afternoon and evening.

Dale didn't roll into the Taylor house until 11 PM, after both Julie and Tami had turned in. When he came through the front door, the key they had leant him rattling in the lock, Eric was waiting on the couch.

Dale slouched down on the cushion next to him and rubbed his eyes. He glanced at the vase full of roses on the coffee table. Eric had managed to pick up the flowers on the way home from work, despite his distraction. "You get in trouble?"

"Nah," Eric said. "Sometimes a man just brings his woman flowers because he loves her." And because she drops a not-so-subtle hint.

Dale rubbed his forehead.

"How'd it go?" Eric asked. "Was Mr. Gouda cleared? You need a beer?"

"I need sleep," Dale said. "And it went fine. We got our man Hapi. Everything checks out on Gouda. The man is clean. Only Hapi's prints were on the trap door's handle."

"Moss wasn't in school today."

"I'm sure he'll be back tomorrow, Eric. It was a big event."

"Yeah, I know. I'm just worried about him. He didn't answer his phone. I wish you could have done this without involving me."

"Well, I appreciate your help." Dale stood and stretched. "I've got to hit the sack."

"Sure you don't want a beer?" Eric couldn't sleep, not as worried as he was, and it might help to talk to his brother.

"Eric, I'm exhausted. I barely stopped to eat dinner today."

"But you'll be here a few more days?" Eric asked. "Won't you?" He wasn't ready to see his brother go just yet. This was the most time they'd spent together since Eric was eight.

"I wish I could. But we got some information form Hapi on his supplier in Cairo. They want me back in the foreign office to work that end of the case with the local authorities. I'm on a flight to Egypt tomorrow evening."

And then he was gone, disappearing into the darkened hall.

**[Thursday]**

Something thudded on Eric's office desk. He peered up from the legal pad on which he was sketching a play diagram to see a brown helmet, and then the tall, muscular figure of Moss Gouda.

"I quit," Moss said.

"What? Why? Son, we've got a game _tomorrow_."

"I thought you had a real interest in me. I didn't know you were just pretending to so you could get in my house."

"Son, I _do_ have a – "

" - Don't call me _son_. I'm not you're son. And my real father – he spent _two hours_ being interviewed by the D.E.A. yesterday. That's what your brother calls it. An _interview_."

Eric shifted in his seat. Dale hadn't told him he had interrogated Mr. Gouda. "Well, I'm sure he just wanted to make sure he could clear your father of any involvement."

"Yeah, well he's clear. Except his business accounts are still frozen. And your brother says it will probably be a month before they're unfrozen. And he's going to lose a lot of money in the meantime. And now everyone on the team is laughing at me and asking how big my asshole needs to be to smuggle drugs up it."

"Moss, I'm going to take care of that. I'm going to have a talk with – "

"- I don't _want_ you to have a talk with them. I don't want anything to do with you or this team. And now Hapi…" He shook his head. "Well I didn't know what he was doing, and I certainly don't approve, but he was at least home. He was around. No one else was ever around. Not my dad. Not you."

"Moss, I _am_ around. I'm right here. And I'm going to _be_ here."

"Screw you! I quit!"

Eric stood up, calling after the boy as he disappeared through the door frame. Moss slammed the door shut. Eric stared at the dark brown paint on the back of the door's surface and at the white words Owls stenciled there.

He shoved his legal pad, and it went flying off the desk. "Damn it!"

**[FNL]**

When Eric left his office that afternoon, his brother was waiting for him in the parking lot. Dale leaned casually against his Charger, which he'd parked in the spot next to Eric's pick-up. "Want to go out for a beer before I head back to Cairo tonight?" he asked. "I don't have to be at the airport until seven."

"No, I don't," Eric said. "Because my QB just quit on me, and I have to call up the second and third string and run some plays with them and figure out who the hell we're going to start tomorrow."

"Sorry, brother. That puts you in a tough spot."

Eric dropped his satchel on the ground. "_You_ put me in that tough spot. Moss quit because of the drug raid! He doesn't trust me now because of my part in it!"

Dale took a few steps toward Eric. "Look, Eric, I'm sorry this interfered with your plans and your relationship with one of your players. That was certainly not my intention. But I have a job to do."

"So do I." Eric snatched up his satchel, unlocked the door of his pick-up, and tossed the bag inside. He climbed in and tried to shut the door, but Dale held the outer handle and kept it open.

"So this is it?" Dale asked. "This is how we're saying goodbye? I might not see you for another two years."

"Is that when you think you'll have your next drug case in Fort Worth?" Eric asked. "Is that when you think you'll need to pretend to be visiting family again?" He jerked the door shut over Dale's resistance, cranked the engine, and left Dale standing there, looking bewildered.


	17. Owls Falling

**Chapter Seventeen**

**[Friday]**

"Dale called while you were in the shower," Tami told Eric as she poured a cup of coffee in her travel mug. "Said he made it back to Egypt safely and to thank you again for your help with the case."

Eric leaned against the kitchen counter, his dark hair damp from the shower and still untamed. He didn't respond.

"Did you two get in some kind of fight before he left?"

"Nah. No."

Tami raised an eyebrow.

"Not really."

She blew a ripple across the top of her coffee and looked straight at him.

"Sort of. I just...with Moss quitting like that. And then Dale just takes off back to Egypt. Same day."

"He said you didn't want to go out for drinks with him before he left."

"I had things to do, Tami. You know I lost my quarterback."

She nodded. "All right then. Just remember, you only get the family you're born with."

"And the one you marry into."

She kissed him. "You're worried about this game tonight," she said when their lips parted.

"I've got every reason to be."

**[*]**

After the slaughter on the football field that evening, Eric went into his office, closed the door, and closed his eyes. The door jerked open and Coach Arnold marched in. Behind him was Coach Ramsey. Ramsey shut the door softly.

"This is because of you," Arnold shouted. "Thanks to you we lost our best player!"

Eric's eyes shot open. "Our best player? The player you told me you didn't think he" - he nodded to Coach Ramsey - "should have made QB1 in the first place?"

Arnold looked at Coach Ramsey and shook his head. "I never said that. I just said Eric needed to shape him."

"Boys," Coach Ramsey shouted, "I'm not interested in your pissing match. We need to figure out who we're going to start next week." Tonight, in the absence of Moss, they'd alternated their second and third string quarterbacks. "And we need to figure out how we're going to get this team solidified. We need to figure out how not to get our asses handed to us again."

"Yes, sir," both Eric and Coach Arnold muttered at once.

"6 AM tomorrow morning," Coach Ramsey said. "And I want the team here too."

"Coach," Coach Arnold said, "6 AM on a Saturday morning? They'll have partied all night. They'll be – "

"- What the hell do they have to party about?" Coach Ramsey shouted. "6 AM, tomorrow morning, the entire team, on my field. Is that understood?"

"Understood," Coach Arnold said.

Ramsey turned to Eric. "And you're going to put in however many hours you need to put in to make up for this loss to the team and to get your new quarterback in shape. Understood?"

"Understood," Eric muttered.

**[Saturday]**

Everyone but Coach Taylor had cleared out of the locker room and office. The impromptu team practice had come to a close. After some discussion, the coaches had agreed that Juan Ramirez should start. Coach Taylor was expected to work with the new quarterback every day next week to bring him up to speed. It wasn't enough time, Eric knew.

He sat at his desk in the empty office and stared at the brown cap resting next to the phone. The eyes of the owl stared fiercely back at him as though judging him. He didn't know if his coaching contract was going to be renewed at the end of this season, especially with Coach Arnold taking the reins next year.

He picked up the phone and dialed Buddy Garrity's car dealership. He and Buddy had shared a beer together on more than one occasion after Eric drove up to Dillon to privately coach Jason Street. Jason's parents had paid reasonably well, and Eric had needed the extra money at the time, though Tami had shaken her head at the idea of anyone hiring a private coach for a Pee Wee football player. The Streets weren't even particularly wealthy. They were solidly middle-class. Eric had been trying to become solidly middle-class at the time, but they'd still been living in a two-bedroom apartment back then. He'd appreciated the extra money, and he'd enjoyed his time molding Jason.

Buddy was a dedicated booster for the Panthers and had already been interested in the up-and-coming talent, which was how he and Eric had met. Theirs was something of a working friendship, but Eric supposed most of his friendships fit that category.

When Buddy answered the phone, they shot the breeze for a while before Eric ventured, "How are you liking the JV coach over there, for the Panthers?"

"He's not bad."

Faint enough praise, Eric thought. "Are they planning to renew his contract next year?"

"Contracts don't go out until February, but I don't see why not."

"You've got Jason Street coming to Dillon High next year, don't you?"

"Yeah, and that boy is going to bring the heat," Buddy said.

"I know he will. You know how well I know him. I commuted to Dillon three days a week for three years, every spring and winter. We worked well together. I wish I could have kept coaching him when he went to junior high. I just couldn't make that commute after we moved."

"Eric, I'm sensing you want to ask me something here."

"I might be ready to move on from the Owls at the end of this season. My teaching contract is up at the end of May. I can be free by summer training."

"You're not too subtle, Eric. You've got to learn to play this game better."

"This is not the game I want to play, Buddy. _Football_ is the game I want to play. So tell me, do I have a chance of getting on the Panthers as the JV coach?" As Jason rose to prominence, so too might Eric.

"Look, season's barely started. Coach Macon's working out fine so far. He's not exactly the bees knees, but there's no reason to think he can't work with Jason. Now I know you and I like you, Eric, and you may know Jason Street well. I'll give you that. But the Panthers don't know you from Adam."

"_You_ know me. And Jason knows me. His parents know me. And I met the head coach over there. Mark and I had a beer once."

"Well, I'll keep my ear to the ground. That's all I can promise you. If Coach Macon starts slipping…I'll put a bug in the administration's ear, mention you. But I can't promise you anything more than that."

"That's all I was hoping for at this point, Buddy. Thank you."

** [Thursday]**

"You okay, honey?" Tami asked. Eric had been sitting in the recliner, starring at a paused game tape for three minutes now. Juan was good, and Eric would make him better, but he wasn't Moss.

He rubbed his eyes and unpaused the tape. "Fine."

She took the remote from his hand and paused the tape again. After sliding onto his lap, she kissed his forehead gently. "You're not fine, Eric."

"I just…I feel guilty about Moss. I keep trying to talk to the kid in school. Kid doesn't want to listen. He just walks away."

"He's angry. He doesn't understand. But you did what you had to do, Eric. Yes, it's been a huge inconvenience and embarrassment for him and his father, but don't you think they'll be better off for not having a drug smuggler in their house?"

"It's not that. He feels like I was just…that…I was pretending to care about him just to get in the damn house. And I know what that feels like, because that's exactly what Dale was doing to me."

Tami stroked his cheek. "Your brother loves you, sugar, in his own way."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know. I thought it would help. Your brother's an asshole. Is that better?"

He laughed. "Nah. I guess I don't believe that. He's just…When I was in 9th grade, pounding my first beer on the football field, thinking I was big stuff, thinking I was a real man – he'd already earned his B.A., moved over a thousand miles from home, started a career, had a live-in girlfriend ….And he didn't have much reason to visit. There was always this enormous tension between him and our father. I guess he just hasn't had much reason to _feel_ like part of the family."

"Then maybe you should give him a reason."

"How?"

"Why don't you pick up the phone, Eric? Go in the kitchen right now, pick up the phone, and call him."

"That's an international call. You know how much that would cost?"

"Eric." Her tone was scolding.

"A'ight," he said, "I'll call him. But not tonight. I have a game tomorrow."

**[Friday]**

The loss was less spectacular this time. The Owls were defeated in the final few seconds, by a last-minute touchdown. In the locker room, Coach Ramsey told the team it would rise like a phoenix from the ashes.

"We ain't phoenixes," Juan Ramirez said. "We're owls."

The kid ended up cleaning the toilets, and Eric began drawing out his plans for the next game.


	18. Smoking Weed

**Chapter Eighteen**

Eric had been working with his new quarterback Saturday morning, and he barely slipped into the middle school auditorium seat in time to see Julie begin her first debate of the year. Tami leaned over and whispered, "I'm actually nervous for her." She need not have been, because Julie just about mopped the floor with her opponent.

The Taylors went out for pit barbecue afterwards, and as Eric was wiping his hands with one of the paper towels, he asked Julie, "You don't really believe that drugs should be legal, do you? You were just making your best argument to win, right?"

"No," Julie said. "I believe it. Don't you? I mean, you smoked pot when you were younger."

"What?" Eric and Tami asked in unison.

"I did no such thing," Eric insisted.

"Uncle Dale seemed to think you did."

"He told you that?" Eric asked.

Eric had tried it, once, the summer after his sophomore year of high school. His parents had left town for a three-day, anniversary retreat – a bandaid on a marriage that was slowly disintegrating. Dale was moving from Miami to L.A. that summer and driving his car across country, and he was supposed to stop "on the way" to "supervise" Eric for the weekend at their mother's request. Dale called Eric privately and told him he couldn't get there until Saturday morning, but Eric's parents left Friday afternoon.

That night, Mo McArnold came over. He and Eric sat on the couch, ate pizza straight from the box, and drank Mr. Taylor's Southern Comfort. Eric's father knew he hit the liquor cabinet sometimes and chose to ignore the fact. Eric was a football star, and he was following in his father's footsteps. He was on the path to reclaiming the Taylor name. He deserved the occasional drink.

But when Mo lifted the bottle to pour him a third, Eric said, "Nah. I can't take too much of that shit."

"You pussy," Mo told him. "Tami and I drank almost a whole bottle at Tom's party last Saturday. Too bad you had to work, man. That party was bitchin'."

"I saw Tami at the DQ Wednesday and she told me she _hates_ Southern Comfort."

Mo laughed. "Well, that's probably why. She got really sick. But I almost got some action."

Eric polished off the last piece of pizza and said, "I thought she was dating that drummer."

"Yeah. His band played the party. But he's no Mo McArnold. I'm moving in on that territory. Pitching my tent." Mo made a rising phallic gesture with his finger.

"You're going to compete with a senior?" Eric asked. "Who's in a decent rock band?"

"Hey, he's not a senior anymore. He's going to college in three weeks. He's done with her, and she knows it, which was why she was hitting the Southern Comfort. Too bad she overdid it, because I think we were about to kiss. But then she upchucked."

"Sure it was the Southern Comfort? Sure it wasn't your face?"

Mo punched him on the shoulder.

Eric rubbed the spot. "They're really breaking up?"

"Hey! I called dibs on her first. Don't you even _think_ about it."

Eric held up his hands. "Tami's not my type anyway."

"What do you mean she's not your type?" Mo protested. "She's hot as hell."

"She's trouble. She's got that crazy religious mother - "

"- Well, obviously all of her mom's preaching hasn't kept her from having fun - "

"- and that bad ass military stepfather."

"He's not that bad ass," Mo insisted. "He's pretty laid back. He's in Bolivia now anyway."

"She almost flunked out of school last year," Eric reminded him.

"Like all of your girlfriends have been geniuses? And Tami's not stupid. School just bores her so she skips a lot."

"Besides, I like girls who are sweet to me. You know, who bake me cookies and wash my truck."

"Tami can be sweet."

"Tami?" Eric laughed. "_Sweet?_ Sure. When she wants something."

"So you aren't going to go for her?" Mo asked. "You promise?"

"I'm busy with Shannon anyway."

"Oh yeah..." Mo grinned. "You get anywhere with her last night?"

"A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."

Mo laughed. "So you got the red light, then?"

"I didn't say that."

"Green light for first base?"

Eric nodded.

"Green light for second base?"

Eric grinned.

"Green light for third base?"

Eric shook his head. "But we're going out tomorrow night."

"Maybe you shouldn't have dumped Ava. You could still be getting some. But, hey, I got something to make you feel better about not getting laid. I scored some pot."

"I don't know, man," Eric said.

"Pussy."

"My brother's coming tomorrow morning. He's a DEA agent."

"So what? Your dad's a cop, and you still drink his booze."

"That's different. What if my brother smells it in the house?"

"Fine, we'll go out back behind the shed."

They sat with their backs against the cement block base of the raised shed, passing a joint back and forth, laughing and talking. Eric had just put the joint between his lips when he heard the rare sound of Dale's voice. "What the hell do you think you're doing, little brother?"

Mo looked up at Dale, blinked slowly, and said, "Who the hell are you?"

That was when Dale pulled up his shirt to reveal his gun, and Mo pissed his pants. Dale took the joint from Eric's fingers, put it out against the side of the shed, and said to Mo, "Why don't you run on home and get cleaned up. How far away do you live? Can you walk?"

Mo pulled himself up into a standing position. "A mile, sir," he said. "I can walk, sir. I don't want any trouble, sir."

Dale held out his hand. "Give me the rest before you go."

Mo pulled a little bag of weed out of the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to Dale, who put it in his own pocket. Mo weaved around Dale and took off through the yard.

Eric stood also. He was feeling mellow and, unlike Mo, completely unintimidated at the moment. He laughed. "You gonna smoke that later?"

"Get inside."

"C'mon. I know you did it in high school."

"Get inside," Dale repeated.

"I thought you weren't coming until tomorrow morning."

"I got out of Miami sooner than I expected. Get inside."

When they were in the house, Dale leaned in close, right up in his face, and sniffed. "Have you been drinking too?"

"What are you worried about, Dale?" Eric asked, smiling broadly. "You're not my father."

"No, because if I was, I wouldn't give a shit what you did. Dad doesn't care about anything you do, as long as you keep your football stats up. But I'm in charge for the next three days. Not Dad. Now go to bed."

The next morning Eric was feeling considerably less relaxed. In fact, it was with great reluctance that he showed his face in the kitchen, where Dale was reading the paper and drinking coffee.

"There's more bacon and more coffee if you want it," Dale said.

Eric took some coffee and two strips of bacon and sat down at the table with his brother. "How's Cindy?" he asked, hoping if he started off on a different subject, maybe Dale wouldn't mention the pot.

"Good. She'll move out to L.A. with me in a couple months. She's done with law school. Mom will be happy to know I finally gave her an engagement ring."

"Yeah?" Eric said. "Congratulations."

"We won't _actually_ get married for two years. We've got all those school loans to pay down, and she wants a nice, big wedding. I've got to save for that." He smiled. "But she's worth every penny."

Eric bit into his bacon, relieved that Dale seemed to be in a good mood. But when he looked back up from his plate, Dale was staring straight at him. "How long have you been smoking pot?"

Eric swallowed at the bite of bacon that seemed lodged in his throat. "That was the first time ever."

"You expect me to believe that?"

Eric didn't answer.

"It's illegal. So is underage drinking."

"You did it."

"Not for long. Because I knew I had to grow up and make my own way. You, on the other hand…You think you can play football forever. You think you can be a god forever. But you're wrong, Eric. And you better start thinking about your future and what you want to do after college."

"I'll be in the NFL, Dale."

"And if you don't go pro?"

"C'mon! They put me on varsity my freshman year! I don't even _start_ my junior year until next month, and _already_ colleges are courting me, even though they aren't supposed to. _Everybody_ thinks I'll go pro."

"If you get injured? Or if you just don't quite make the cut? Eric, less than 2% of college players are drafted by the NFL."

"Nah. It's more like 15%. And I'll be one of the best."

"It's less than 2%, Eric. Where'd you get the 15%?"

"Dad."

"Dad is full of shit. Dad wants to live vicariously through you, because he didn't last in the AFL. What else are you interested in? Besides football?"

"Girls." Eric grinned but his grin faded when Dale didn't smile.

"That's another thing. These girls want you now because of your position on the field, because you can throw, because they think you're going pro."

"So. At least they want me."

Dale shook his head. "You need to find a girl who will want you even when you're _not_ on top of the world. Like I've got in Cindy. A girl who will pick you up when you're down."

Eric smirked. "How about one that will just go down?"

"Grow up, Eric." Dale stood up and shoved in his chair. "Before it's too late. Grow the fuck up."

"Someone's in a foul mood this morning."

"Listen, little brother. You're a smart kid, even if you don't show it much off the field."

"Hey, I have a 2.9 GPA."

"Yeah, and if you bothered to crack open a book _at all_, you'd have a 3.9 That's not what I mean, anyway. I mean you're fully capable of being a productive person even if you never go pro. And even if you do stay in this little microcosm of football – "

" - Oooh! Microcosm! Big word, Dale. You learn that to use in L.A.?"

"Even if you do," Dale continued, ignoring the interjection, "you don't have to be narrow yourself. You can be something more than a football star. You can be a good man one day, Eric. A better man than Dad is, perpetually stuck in his glory days, bitter and trying to re-live his past through his son."

Eric was gritting his teeth through the tail end of this speech, and when Dale finally stopped, he burst out, "Did it ever occur to you that I might love football? That I might really love it? That aside from the fact that Dad wants me to want it, _I_ might _actually_ want it? That maybe I think there's a lot of beauty in it, that it's a way to push my limits, to work as part of a team, a chance to be a part of a family, to have….to _finally_ have brothers!"

Dale picked up his plate. He walked to the kitchen sink and jerked on the water. He scrubbed the plate, and just before he set it in the drying rack, he said, "You _have_ a brother. Maybe you should consider listening to him."

Eric's memories were disrupted by Julie's voice. "No. Uncle Dale didn't _say_ that. But I figured it out."

"Well you're wrong," Eric lied. "I never smoked pot. And you shouldn't go near it either."

"I don't plan to. But even Uncle Dale said we should legalize _some_ drugs."

"Did he now?" Eric asked.

"Speaking of Dale," Tami said. "Have you called your brother yet?"

"When would I have had the time?" Eric asked.

Tami merely raised an eyebrow in reply. Eric sighed and resumed eating his brisket.


	19. What Happened

**Chapter Nineteen**

Eric emerged from the master bathroom in his boxers. Tami was sitting up in bed, two pillows propped behind her back, reading. She had on his Dallas Cowboys jersey as a night shirt. He loved it when his woman wore his shirts. It made him feel proud, possessive, and aroused all at once. He didn't think she was likely in the mood for sex, however, given that she was reading a book on sociopaths.

"What's with the book?" he asked as he slid in next to her and arranged his own pillows behind his back. He reached for a sports biography he'd left on the nightstand and cracked it open to where he'd dog-eared the page.

"I think one of my clients is married to a sociopath," she said, "and this book is confirming my suspicions."

"That sounds dangerous."

"Emotionally, for her, yes. I don't think he's a serial killer, honey, but he's a serial adulterer, with no remorse." She closed her book and put it on her nightstand. She switched off her lamp. Eric's bedside lamp continued to bathe the room in partial light. "Did you really smoke pot in high school?" she asked.

He closed his book. He guessed they weren't reading. "Why do you sound surprised? Didn't you?"

"No. Jake offered it to me once." That was her pre-Mo drummer boyfriend. "And so did Mo, but I didn't want to go down that road. Why did you lie to Julie about it?"

"I'm not going to tell my daughter I smoked pot."

"Don't you think it's better to be honest? To tell her you did it, but that you regret it?"

He put his book back on the nightstand. "I didn't do it long enough to regret it. I only did it the _once_."

"Once? Really?"

"Dale caught me."

"He scared you straight?"

Eric chuckled. "Scared Mo anyway."

"Can I ask you a serious question, Eric?" She didn't wait for his permission. "Why do you keep putting off calling Dale? What are you afraid of? He's your brother. He's not some girl you're asking on a first date."

"Well I was never afraid of that." He turned his head toward hers and smiled. "Except when I asked you."

"I'm sure you weren't afraid to ask _me_. You'd had a lot of experience asking girls out before you ever got to me."

"Yeah, but you told me you weren't dating for the rest of the year, remember? After you found out Mo was cheating, you said your focus was going to be all on yourself. No more guys. I thought you might say no."

Tami laughed. "Well, I _did_ say no."

Tami discovered Mo's cheating in mid-November of their senior year. They'd been going steady since the start of their junior year, for fourteen months, a lifetime in high school. They were the "it" couple, and had been elected Homecoming King and Queen that September. Eric knew Tami was beginning to expect a future with Mo. He thought she deserved to know the truth, before Mo left for college and she stayed behind in Midland, working and maybe taking a few community college classes, being faithful to a guy who probably wasn't coming back for her. And then there was the fact that Eric's own girlfriend had recently moved out of state and subsequently broken up with him and that he himself was suddenly available. Those factors converged to inspire him to make sure that Tami was in the right place at the right time, and that he was the shoulder to cry on. He waited two full weeks after Tami dumped Mo to ask her out. No girl had ever told him no, not to a mere date. But Tami _did_ tell him no.

"But you were so persistent," Tami said now, tickling his ribcage. He squirmed. "And I kind of liked you."

"You did, huh?" He rolled on his side and nuzzled her cheek with his nose. "Kind of?"

"Kind of. But I thought you were an arrogant jerk for half of high school."

"Really? Compared to Mo?"

"Mo wasn't that bad. He was sweet to me."

"He _cheated_ on you. I never cheated on _any_ of my girlfriends."

"No, you just dumped them as soon as you got tired of them and moved on to the next one."

"I didn't dump Kimberley," Eric said defensively. "She dumped me."

"Okay, so _one_ you didn't dump. And Mo wasn't a bad boyfriend, most of our relationship. I don't know what locker room talk he talked, but he did a lot of considerate things when we were dating. You think I would have dated him that long, or been in love with him, if he hadn't?"

Eric didn't like being reminded that she had ever been in love with someone else. Not that he thought that was real love. Real love didn't come until you'd been together for years, fought and forgiven, laughed and cried, picked each other up and dusted each other off, again and again. "You really thought I was a jerk?"

She shrugged. "You let your popularity go to your head. You got away with things other guys didn't, because you were so good at football. I think underneath that all was the good guy you really are at heart, but maybe you lost sight of that for a while. And you changed. Sometime during our junior year, you changed. It's like you grew up. What happened?"

Eric slid his pillows down, lay on his back, and patted his chest. Tami took the hint and snuggled in. "I don't know exactly," he said as he gently stroked her hair. "Dale chewed me out the summer after my sophomore year. I dismissed everything he said at the time, but…I guess some of it sunk in there. We also got that new head coach my junior year."

"Coach Rayburn?"

"Yeah. He didn't take any crap off of any of the guys, but he cared too. He used to have me over to dinner with him and his wife and his kids. My dad worked a late shift most of that year, and my mom took that second job waitressing. No one was home until ten."

Eric's mother had been saving up for her own college tuition, a plan she hadn't shared with Eric's father, because she knew he'd laugh it off as a waste of time and money. They fought when he found out how much she'd amassed in the secret savings account where she stored her tips.

"So Coach had me over a lot," Eric said. "I mean, must have been three times a week. And they were such a ….I don't know. Loving family. They supported each other, he and his wife, really _supported_ each other. Seemed my parents were always fighting with each other, or ignoring each other, but they sure didn't support each other. And I thought, it must be great to have something like that."

Tami looked up at him and smiled. He squeezed her with the arm he had draped across her back, and when she settled her head on his chest again, he continued, "And Coach encouraged his kids' interests, whatever they were. My dad was always tearing Dale down. He rode me hard, too, but only if I lost a game or messed up a play. Dale he just…Dale could never do anything to impress him. I never really thought about how differently we were treated until recently. My dad put so much time and attention into my football career. That's what he called it, too, a career. It was the only way I got attention from him, but at least I got attention. You heard what Dale said at dinner that one night. My dad didn't even go to Dale's baseball games. I was so young when Dale was in high school, that I don't remember all of that. But when he told me that, I remembered something else. Dale wanted to be in orchestra. He wanted to play the violin. Dad thought it was a waste of money, so he refused to rent or buy an instrument. But the orchestra teacher leant Dale one for free, and then Dad got pissed because a rumor got around that we were poor."

"Good Lord. How did you both turn out to be decent men with a father like that?"

"My mom encouraged us, especially Dale, but she was kind of overwhelmed by my father's personality most of the time. I had Coach Rayburn's influence. And, when I was little, I had Dale's. I don't know if a coach or teacher helped mold him, or if he was just born that way, but he was a good guy. He used to take care of me, you know, after school and in the summers when my parents worked, and he…Tami, he was so much fun to be around. He taught me so many things, showed me so many things, played with me even though he had cooler things to be doing. But once he graduated from college and got that job…." Eric trailed off. A sadness was creeping into his voice, and he didn't want to talk anymore.

Tami kissed his chest. "Sugar, you need to work up the courage to call you brother. If you want a relationship with him, you can't wait for him to initiate it."

Eric didn't want to talk about Dale anymore, so he circled back to an earlier part of their conversation instead. "You know, you weren't exactly perfect when we were in high school either. You did everything you could to tick off your mom. You almost dropped out. But you changed too. What happened?"

"You happened."

"What? We weren't even together until after Christmas our senior year. You started pulling up your grades before then."

"But we were friends. All those double dates we went on, me and Mo and you and Kimberley, the second half of our junior year?"

"What about them?"

"We talked, you know…all of us. We spent hours together, the four of us. And you didn't laugh at my dreams. You told me it wasn't too late for me to go to college, that even your _mom_ was preparing to go to college."

Eric traced patterns lazily on her back. "I wonder whatever happened to her."

"Your mom? I'm sure she's in heaven, Eric, adultery or not."

"Kimberley," he said.

"Oh. Well, I hope she eventually became a doctor like she planned. She was the only girlfriend you ever had that I had any respect for."

"Excepting present company?"

Tami laughed. "Of course. But admit it. Up until then, you were pretty shallow when it came to girls. As long as they were hot and put out…"

Eric reached for the lamp and switched off the light. He scooted down, which forced her to raise her head until her lips were near his. He kissed her, first her lips, then her chin, then her neck, then the skin just above the jersey's neckline. He grabbed the tail of the shirt and yanked so the material would pull downward from her breasts, and then he dipped his tongue into her cleavage.

She chuckled. "Are you horny because I've reminded you of all your old girlfriends?"

"I'm horny because my gorgeous wife is in my bed wearing my shirt." He pushed up the jersey until the material was bunched just below her breasts. "This is my shirt," he said lowly into her ear. "You're going to have to take it off."

"Am I?"

He nipped at her neck. "Raise your arms, babe. This is mine."

"What is?" She smiled as she raised her arms over her head. "Me or the shirt?"

"Both." He pulled the jersey over her head and tossed it on the floor. "Damn. I shouldn't have turned off the light."

She crossed her arms behind her head. "Well, you know how a blind man sees."

"Mhmmmm….." Eric murmured as he began his explorations.


	20. Restoring Trust

**Chapter Twenty**

**[Tuesday]**

Moss came by Coach Taylor's office just as he was preparing to leave for the day. Eric was surprised to see him, given that the boy had rebuffed all of his previous attempts to talk to him. He shut the door behind his former quarterback and asked him to sit down. They took seats on opposite sides of the desk.

"I…uh….I need you to fill out an evaluation," Moss said, not meeting Eric's eyes. "I'm required to get one from every coach and teacher I've had this year."

"Required? For?"

"The private school I'll be transferring to next semester. It's protocol I guess." Still looking at the desk, Moss pushed a sheet forward toward Eric. It had a lot of questions and scales of 1 to 10. The sheet was atop a stamped, addressed envelope. "You can just mail it in that envelope. It needs to be mailed by Thursday. Sorry for the short notice. You can say whatever you want. You can slam me if you want. It won't matter. I get good grades. My dad's got his business back, and he's got money. So I'll get in." He began to stand up.

"Sit down, Moss."

Moss reluctantly slumped back into the chair. He looked off to the side, at the trophy case.

"Is this what you want, this school?"

Moss finally met his eyes. "Well I don't want to stick around to be a laughing stock at this one."

"I'm sorry you got put in that situation, Moss. And I'm sorry you feel like I used you."

"_Feel_ like you used me. _Feel like_. What a shit apology that is."

"Language."

"I don't _feel_ like you used me, Coach Taylor. You _did_ use me."

"I had no idea about that case until a week before we had dinner at your house. All that other work we did over the summer, all those conversations we had – none of that had _anything_ to do with my brother or his case. None of it."

"Really?" Moss asked.

"I swear on my mother's grave."

"Is your mom even dead?"

"She died three years ago."

Moss shifted in the chair. "I wish I hadn't quit like that," he admitted. "I was angry."

"I know. I understand."

"It felt really good, winning that first game. But I also don't really fit here. It took me awhile to mesh with the team, and then after the bust…I lost all that. I might fit better at Decorum Academy. A lot of transplants there. The provost said a quarter of the kids who attend weren't born in Texas. And the academics…I won't be as bored in class."

"You gonna play ball over there?"

"They don't have a football team."

Eric shifted his cap. "How's that even possible?"

"They thought a football team would be too expensive. They've got baseball though, with a volunteer coach. Since I'll start there in spring, I might try out for that. I've never played baseball, but I never played football before 9th grade either. And with only 95 boys in the school, I might make the team."

"So how many kids total in that school? About 200?"

"95. It's an all boys' school."

"Oh. Huh." Eric laughed. "I don't think I would have liked that."

"Well, I don't care. Remember, I'm staying faithful to my girlfriend back home?"

"Yeah. You told me about her. Emma?" Eric hoped he was guessing the name right. It might have been Emily.

Moss nodded. "We're planning to go to the same college. You don't think it's possible, do you? A long-distance relationship lasting two years?"

"I guess anything's possible."

The peeved look on Moss's face made Eric fear he'd given the wrong answer, that he'd just shut a window of opportunity with the kid by not being more encouraging. Yet Moss spoke again. "You ever have one?" he asked. "A long-distance thing?"

It was a personal question, and Eric didn't usually welcome intimate questions. But he welcomed this one. The fact that Moss would even ask it must mean that he was ready to consider trusting Eric again. "Yeah, a girl I dated the second half of my junior year of high school. She moved to Oklahoma that August. We were planning to do the long-distance thing and then go to the same college too. "

"Planning?" Moss asked.

"Uh…It didn't work out."

"Why?"

"She broke up with me my senior year." November 3rd. Eric remembered the date of the letter. It had stuck with him for some reason. "Said she'd decided she wanted to go to Oklahoma State, not A&amp;M, and that I didn't write her enough letters."

"Well I text Emma _every_ day. And I write her longs e-mails. And we talk _every_ day."

"We didn't have text messaging back then. Or e-mail. Long distance calls were 24 cents a minute, and I only made four dollars an hour at the DQ."

"Were you really upset?" Moss asked. "When she broke it off?"

"I was relieved," Eric admitted. "We'd drifted apart. And I was attracted to someone else. I didn't act on it, but I was strongly attracted to someone else."

Tami. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. He wasn't in love, not then, not yet, but he couldn't keep his eyes off her, even though she was Mo's girlfriend. The four of them had been inseparable that second half of junior year, but Eric was a third wheel once Kimberley moved. That was when he really started noticing Tami. He'd known she was gorgeous before, in an objective sort of way, but between Mo and his own steady girlfriend, he hadn't given much thought to the fact. With Kimberley in another state, though, he had a much harder time not noticing the intensity of his own attraction to Tami.

Eric had not wanted to be the one to end it with Kimberly. He'd ended too many other short-lived relationships. He'd wanted to believe he had matured and that he was capable of something long-term. And it turned out he was capable, just not with Kimberley. That break-up letter had felt like a chain slipping off his ankle.

"So, when she broke it off, did you act on it?" Moss asked. "With the other girl?"

"Well, the other girl still had a boyfriend at the time, but they broke up two weeks after Kimberley and I did."

Moss laughed. "Coincidental timing, huh?"

Eric grinned. "Purely coincidental."

"So this other girl, she was Mrs. Taylor? I mean, she _became_ Mrs. Taylor?"

Eric nodded. "Mrs. Taylor and I did the long-distance thing, too, for our first semester in college." After high school, Tami went to a community college in Midland, because it was open admission, and she'd wrecked her GPA her first half of high school and spent the next half just trying to graduate. She planned to excel there, earn some cheap credits, and eventually transfer to a four year university. Eric was courted by multiple colleges, and settled on A&amp;M, 400 miles from Tami.

"Was it hard?" Moss asked. "Staying faithful?"

Eric could only assume Moss was struggling with his own temptations. He paused to consider his words, and then settled on honesty. "It wasn't easy. But I loved her and I didn't want to screw up and lose her. So I put up walls."

"Walls?"

"There were times I just didn't go to the parties."

The first college party Eric had gone to had been largely uneventful – a few minor flirtations from girls who were easily put off - but at the second, something happened. He was sitting on the couch in some frat house, sipping a beer, and feeling a bit buzzed, when a pretty, perky, and buxom cheerleader had, without invitation, straddled his lap. She'd clearly had a few beers herself. She put her arms around his neck, leaned back to give him a good view of her cleavage, and said, _Eric, you're so damn cute._ She knew his name, but he had no idea what hers was. _I know where there's a room free. Want to fuck me?_

He was stunned by her brazenness. Girls had flirted with him in high school, but they'd never just flat out offered sex like that. He'd had to ask them out, take them on dates, run the bases, work his way home. He'd heard college was like a free buffet, but he hadn't really believed it.

Feeling an odd medley of shock, arousal, disgust, and desire, he couldn't make himself move or speak. The girl took the hand he wasn't using to hold the beer and shoved it down the front of her shirt. He blinked, processed where his hand was, and yanked it back out. At the same time, he dropped the cup of beer on the couch. The liquid oozed down into an ugly puddle on the carpet. He stood up and pushed her away, telling her he had a steady girlfriend.

She said, _What your girlfriend doesn't know won't hurt her._

_I'll know_.

He stumbled back to his dorm room, locked the door, and called Tami. Before she could say much, he asked, _Are you alone right now, babe?_

_Yeah._

_Good. What are you wearing?_

She chuckled. _What do you WANT me to be wearing?_

He talked dirty with her until they'd both found release. Then he begged her, _Come down here, Tami, babe. Come down here next semester. _

_I can't get into A&amp;M, Eric. Not yet. I need to prove myself, earn a year of straight As._

_There's a community college five miles from here. I bet you could get in. _

_You know I save money by living at home, and I get good hours and tips at the diner._

_I get a housing stipend with my scholarship .I can move off campus. We can live together. You can find a new job here. Hell, I'll get a part-time job and help you with tuition. Tami, baby, please. I love you. I can't do this, this being so far away from you. I need you so bad._

"You just didn't go to the parties at all?" Moss asked.

"Most of the time, I'd stay back in the dorm, call Tami – Mrs. Taylor - talk to her for as long as I could afford to, and then I'd study." He got good grades that semester, at least. Then Tami moved in with him, and his grades dipped his spring semester before steadying themselves again.

"Were you afraid you'd cheat if you went?" Moss asked. "Didn't you think you were better than that? That your relationship was better than that?"

Tami seemed to think their relationship was unassailable, but Eric suspected that it had to be guarded. Protected. Nurtured. That, like any other relationship, it might fall apart if left untended. He certainly wouldn't ever want to try a long-distance relationship again, but Tami would probably think there was nothing to fear in such a temporary separation.

Tami believed in him, more than he believed in himself, and always had, not just in love, but in fathering, in coaching, in teaching, in everything. He wondered if he hadn't perhaps, over time, simply _become_ the man she believed him to be.

"No one's perfect, son, and no relationship is perfect. There's no honor in an easy victory. The honor is in how hard we work to overcome every obstacle along the way." Eric suspected that Moss was falling for a local girl, and what if Emma wasn't his Tami? What if that local girl turned out to be his Tami? "But sometimes, you lose a game. No matter how much you strive, you still lose. And that's a'right. Because you can learn from that loss, and play the next game better. You know what I'm saying?"

"I think so." Moss looked back at the trophy case. "How can you tell if a girl is cheating on you?"

Eric's heart dropped for the boy's sake. He'd been wrong. Moss hadn't been worried about his _own_ temptation. He'd been worried about hers. "The easiest way is probably to ask her."

Moss turned back. "Won't she think you don't trust her?"

"Yes. Because you don't."

Moss looked down at his hand on his knee. "I really love her," he said.

"You're 16, Moss. I don't mean to insult you, but trust me when I say this, you have no idea what love really is. But you'll learn. And maybe you'll learn with this….Emma…girl. Or maybe you'll learn with someone else. But either way, you'll learn. And it's gonna be a'right."

Moss swallowed.

"It'll be a'right, son. You'll be a'right. You believe me when I say that?"

Moss nodded. Then he shook his head. Then he laughed and clenched his fist and pounded it on his knee. "Sure, Coach," he said finally, and stood. "I gotta go."

Eric stood up. "Sure you don't want to come back on the team? Door's open."

Moss shook his head. "Nah. Wouldn't be fair to Ramirez. He's worked hard to pick up my slack. And I'm not sure I'd be welcome, after quitting."

Eric extended his hand. "It's been good working with you, son, for the little time we had." Moss shook his hand. "You come by any time, Moss. Or pick up the phone and call. Not just as long as you're at Oliver. But after you transfer, too."

Moss nodded.

"And you knock some out of the park this spring."

Moss smiled. "Yeah. Your brother played baseball in high school, didn't he?"

"How'd you know that?"

"He told me, when he was uh…_interviewing_…me."

"He took you in?" Eric asked.

"Yeah. It was fine. He had to ask me some questions. I get it. I'm not mad about any of it anymore. He was actually a pretty cool guy, and we're probably safer now, without Hapi using the business. How's he doing? Your brother?"

"Umm…." Eric didn't know. They hadn't spoken since Dale returned to Cairo. "Good. He's doing real good."


	21. A Sudden Squabble

**Chapter Twenty-One**

**[Wednesday]**

"The lion is wounded." Those were the first words Buddy Garrity spoke when Eric picked up the office phone. The players and coaches had all cleared out quickly after afternoon practice.

Eric closed his playbook. "What lion?"

"Coach Macon."

"Buddy, what the hell are you talking about? Coach Macon's wounded?"

"It's a metaphor, Eric. Do you know what a metaphor is?"

"I know what a metaphor is. What I don't know is what you're talking about."

"Coach Macon is having an affair with the principal's wife. Bob doesn't know yet. But I could steer him toward the light, if you know what I mean. Might open the JV coaching position next season, but don't forget you'll owe me one."

Eric rubbed his forehead. "I don't feel right about that. I don't want to get involved in ruining anyone's marriage, Buddy. Let her tell him. Or let him find out on his own."

"Don't want to break a couple up for your own gain. I can respect that."

Of course, Eric had once done just that with Mo and Tami, years ago, but they weren't married.

"But you know, Eric," Buddy continued, "sometimes you've got to crack the shell to get at the nut."

"Yeah. I uh…I don't know."

"Well, maybe things will work themselves out. You start touching up your resume."

"Will do. Thanks for keeping me posted. I appreciate it."

When Eric hung up the phone, he thought of calling Dale, but of course he couldn't on the school phone. He fished out his cell phone. He looked at his brother's number in his contact list for a while and realized he had no idea what time it was in Cairo. What if it was one in the morning? He was about to flip the phone shut and slide it back in his pocket when he noticed the voicemail.

"Eric," Tami's recorded message said, "my car won't start. Can you come jump me?" There was the sound of another woman's laughter behind her. "My car, I mean." She lowered her voice and whispered, "Though maybe you can jump me later when Julie's in bed."

**[FNL]**

Eric, ignoring the no parking signs, rolled the pick-up to a stop along the curb outside of Tami's office and leapt out. He looked to his left, where a homeless man sat against the building, sipping something from a brown paper bag, and then to the right, two storefronts down, where a pay day loan place stood, bars on the windows. He took off his sun glasses and walked inside.

Tami was sitting on the secretary's desk in the empty lobby and laughing.

"Is that man yours?" the secretary asked with a teasing smile. This was a new secretary, not the one who had double booked Tami twice. Eric guessed his wife must have some sway in the office, despite being only one of six counselors.

Tami slid off the desk. "He _is_ mine." She walked forward and kissed him briefly. "I left a light on," she admitted.

He sighed. "Well show me where you parked."

After Eric had jump started her car, as he was holding the door open for her, he told her, "I don't like this neighborhood."

"I'm aware, sugar, but these people need counseling."

"Maybe you should think about getting a CHL."

"Eric. I don't even _own_ a handgun. I haven't shot a handgun in five years."

"Well, we can buy you one. And we could take the class together. Just think about it."

She shook her head and slid into the car, and he shut her door. Then he followed her home.

It was after 6:30 when they got inside. Julie was doing her homework on the living room coffee table. "I ordered pizza when you said you were going to be late," Julie told them, which was obvious from the crust-filled paper plate next to her math book. "There's more in the kitchen. I took the money from Dad's secret stash."

"You have a secret stash?" Tami asked.

"It's in one of his boxes of game tape," Julie said. "Found it last month when I was looking to see if one of my VHS tapes got mixed in there." They still hadn't bought a DVD player, despite Julie's many pleas.

Tami glanced back at Eric and then strutted through the dining room and into the kitchen. He followed warily. That was her angry walk.

The pizza box was open on the four-person kitchen table where they usually ate when they didn't have guests. Eric grabbed a slice.

"What's with the secret stash of cash?" Tami asked.

Eric finished chewing and swallowed. "I just like to have cash on hand. You never know when the banks might be closed."

"That's what ATMs are for." Tami poured herself a glass of water and set it on the table next to the pizza box. She was standing directly across from him now. "I feel uneasy about the cash, Eric. So before I start suspecting something completely ridiculous, like you having an affair or hanging out at strip clubs, just tell me what it's for."

"I don't even know where the strip clubs are. Though I bet there's probably one a block from your office. I don't like that neighborhood where you work."

"You've mentioned that before. The cash?"

"A'right." He set his half-eaten pizza slice down on the lid of the open box. "Sometimes you can get a little naggy about the amount of money I spend on craft beer. So I keep a little cash, buy a couple bottles when you're not looking, and hide them in the cabinet behind that cake holder you never use."

Tami jerked open the cabinet, pulled out the cake holder, and found four large bottles lined up against the back edge. "Where did you get the cash? I know you don't withdraw much from checking." Tami reviewed and paid the credit card bills and balanced the checkbook. She was a decent money manager, but sometimes he wished he could fly under her radar a little better.

"Remember that Anderson kid I trained privately after school last winter and spring? His parents actually paid me $30 an hour, not $20 like I said."

"Eric!" She shoved the cake holder back and slammed the cabinet door shut. "Really?"

"I can't drink the cheap stuff all the time, Tami. And you know, you nagging me about that is a little hypocritical given how much money you spend on wine."

"So you lied to me?"

"I didn't lie. How did I lie?"

"You agreed with me that you should spend less on beer. Then you lied about how much money you made, hid the money, and bought the beer. You don't understand how that's a lie?"

"A'ight, yeah, there was a little bit of non-truth telling involved. But really, Tami, think how much you spend on wine."

"You drink some of that wine," she insisted.

"Your wine's not any cheaper than my craft beer."

"Then why didn't you just argue with me about it instead of hiding money and sneaking around?"

"'Cause I don't _like_ arguing with you."

"Well I don't like this one bit, the idea that you can successfully sneak around and…." She threw up her hands, dropped them, and shook her head. "This is not good, Eric. You should be discussing your disagreements with me, not _pretending_ to agree and then doing what you want anyway."

It was true that he did that from time to time. Tami called it _passive aggressive_. He called it _avoiding an unnecessary fight_. "A'right. You're right." Sometimes he also said she was right before he quite believed she was. "I'm sorry I hid money. I'm sorry I pretended to think you weren't being ridiculous about the craft beer."

"Ridiculous?" Her voice went up. "You think I'm being ridiculous, because I object to you buying some ridiculously overpriced bottles of beer? Frankly, I never would have guessed a man like you could be such a beer snob."

"See? This is what I'm talking about. This is no fun."

She sighed. "Fine. We'll sit down and draw up a wine and beer budget tomorrow, and we'll make it fair and we'll find a compromise. But don't hide things from me again. That's not good for our marriage. Do you understand the importance of honesty in this marriage?"

"A'right. You're right." This time he meant it when he said it. When he thought about it, he could see that this practice of his did mostly just _postpone_ the fight and make her even angrier. And there was also the fact that he wanted her to trust him. He didn't want a few small things to make her doubt his word about the big things. But sometimes trying to get Tami to see his point of view felt like rowing a leaking boat against a tide, and it was just easier to do what he wanted without talking to her about it. "You're absolutely right," he admitted. "And I'm sorry. I guess sometimes I can…I can have a conflict-avoidance issue."

She chuckled.

"You like that?" He smiled. At least she was amused now instead of so angry. "Is that the right term? Is than in one of your psychology books?" He picked up the rest of his slice of pizza but didn't bite into it, because it suddenly occurred to him that he should probably tell her that he'd been talking to Buddy about that JV coaching position. Of course, if he didn't mention it, he wouldn't really be keeping anything from Tami. He didn't know anything concrete yet. And if he told her now, they might fight about it.

"I'm glad you understand," she said. "Because, I mean, it's _really _not good for our marriage for you to keep things from me."

He put the half-eaten pizza down and told her.

She slumped into a kitchen chair. "We just moved here," she said.

"I know."

"Fort Worth has theaters. Museums. Culture."

"I know."

"Julie just started middle school, and she's made a best friend. The first really good friend she's had in over two years."

"I know."

"I have a job here, Eric. I don't know how long it would take me to find a job in Dillon. It's a small town."

"It's bigger than the last one we were in. Dillon is a 5A school, Tami. It has AP classes. And Dillon has restaurants."

"What, Applebee's?"

"There's a nice Italian place. And Dillon has a real hotel." He wasn't sure why anyone stayed in that hotel, unless it was to see or participate in an away game at Dillon High, but it was nice.

"Sounds glamorous."

"Look, I'm sorry, but what am I supposed to do? Even if they renew my contract, I'll just spin my wheels on the Owls. What do I do? Butt heads with Arnold game after game after game? I can't stand that man. And he's going to be my _boss_. Jason Street could be my meal ticket. You remember me talking about him."

"Oh, I remember all right. You'd be excited every time you got back from Dillon."

"He's going to be great, Tami. I can make him great."

She sighed. "I'm sure you can." She crossed her arms over herself and stared at the pizza box. "Well, when you hear something more definitive from Buddy, we can discuss the possibility."

Discuss the possibility? What was there to discuss? If he got a job offer, they'd take it, right? "Uh….a'right. Yeah."

"And don't mention it to Julie. No sense upsetting her before we have to."

He nodded.

"I love you, Eric, but I swear, sometimes you drive me up the wall." She pulled a slice of pizza from the box.

"So are we done fighting?" he asked.

"For now," she said.

"Any chance you're still gonna want a….uh….jump start tonight?" She usually didn't after an argument – another reason he avoided them when he could.

"I don't think so, hon. I'm not exactly in the mood anymore." She ate her slice, wiped her hands on a napkin, and asked, "You call your brother yet?"

"No. I haven't had time. I'll call him to - " He stopped. "Actually, to be honest, I'm not planning on calling him. He can call me if he wants. And I would appreciate it if you'd stop pushing me about this."

She seemed surprised by his frankness. "Well okay then."

"Hey, you said you'd like me to be more honest."

"I appreciate your honesty. I just think you might regret not calling your brother." She shook her head and sighed. "You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink."

"You sure about that?" Eric asked as he got out one of his craft beers and then pulled a frosted pint glass out of the freezer.

"Is that too precious to drink out of the bottle?" she asked him. "You drink Bud Light out of the bottle."

"It's warm." He poured himself a pint. "I'll be in my office if you need me." He walked to the living room, slumped down in his recliner, and started the game tape.


	22. Owls Rising

**Chapter Twenty-two**

**[Thursday]**

The next night, as Eric was taking off his watch and laying it on the dresser in their bedroom, he said, "Since you want me to be honest, can I tell you something?"

Tami fluffed her pillow and slapped it on the bed. "Please do."

"I don't feel like you heard me when I said I'm concerned about where you work."

"I've heard you, sweetheart."

"Let me try this, then. I don't feel like you're _listening_ to me."

"What do you want, Eric?" she asked as she turned down the blanket. She was wearing one of his shirts again. How many had she claimed as night shirts? "You want me to quit my job?"

"Since you want me to be honest – Yes. I do. I want you to quit your job, stay at home, and have my dinner waiting for me on the table when I get back from late practices."

"Good Lord! Do you want me to greet you naked at the door too?"

"Actually, I'd prefer you be in nothing but high heels and pearls."

She laughed. "Well then you're going to have to buy me some pearls, honey."

"You know, I don't think you like this unconditional honesty thing as much as you say you do."

"You think I don't know you?" She slid into bed. "You think I don't already know that you preferred the years I was staying home to the ones I worked? You think I don't know that you like to be the center of my attention?"

He walked over to his side of the bed and arranged his pillows.

"But let me be _direct_ with _you_, Eric. I need something for myself right now. Back in East Podunk, when I couldn't find a job, and there was almost _no_ intellectual stimulation anywhere around me- I just about lost my mind."

"But this isn't East Podunk." Damn, he was calling the last town that now too. "There's all sorts of – "

"- I'm not quitting this job, not as long as we're still living here, and you're just going to have to deal with that. You're going to have to get over this fear you have for my safety and trust that I'll be careful and aware of my surroundings. And you'll have to deal with me having a focus that extends a little beyond you."

He got into bed. "Well a'ight then."

Tami switched off the lamp. They fell tensely into their natural pre-sleep cuddle positon, Tami spooned against him.

There was silence, and then Eric finally said, "I worry about your safety because I love you."

"I know that, sweetheart."

"And I like you at home because I love coming home to the peace you create for us. You being at home – I see that as a _real_ job. When you stayed home, I was able to do more private coaching. I was able to make more money and you were able to save us more money. All that makes us richer, just the same as if you had an outside income. I _value_ that contribution. I respect it. I'm not looking to chain you up. It's not about that. I'm not just some chauvinist."

"I know you're not, hon. And it's nice to know I always have that option, that I can rely on you to provide and value my work at home. But this is what I want and need right now. Please try to understand."

"A'ight." He kissed the top of her head. "Just so you understand I'm not a jerk."

"I wouldn't have married a jerk."

He kissed her ear. "Just so you know I love you and respect you." He kissed her neck. "And think you're the most beautiful woman in all the world." He kissed her shoulder. "And a wonderful wife and mother."

"Those are really nice things to say, sweetheart. And I'm just about done being mad at you for hiding that money. But you're still not getting laid tonight."

He sighed and rolled onto his back.

**[Friday Morning]**

Eric got up before Tami did and fixed breakfast, even though it was game day. He brought her a cup of coffee to the bathroom where she was putting on her makeup. "You look gorgeous," he told her as he set the cup on the vanity. "And professional. I bet you're going to help a lot of women at work today."

She looked at the cup, looked at him, and smiled. "You're good at this game, Eric. That's one of the reasons I married you."

"I don't know what game you're talking about. But there are pancakes and bacon waiting for you on the kitchen table when you're ready. I have to get to a meeting with Coach Ramsey." He leaned in and kissed her smiling lips. "You gonna watch me coach tonight?"

"Of course I'm going to watch you coach tonight." She hooked a finger through the belt loop of his khakis and kissed him back. "You know I _love_ to watch you coach."

"Mhmmm…." He said, looking her over with appreciation. "I do know that." He leaned in for another kiss, a deeper one this time, but she pushed him playfully away when he plunged his tongue inside her mouth.

"Go on, hon," she said. "You don't want to be late for your meeting, and you don't want to show up having to carry a playbook in front of your pants."

**[Friday Night]  
**

Coach Taylor glanced into the stands. Tami was looking at the clock, her arms wrapped around herself. Either she was nervous for him, or she hadn't dressed well for the chill, with only that little half jacket she liked to wear over her thin shirt. At last week's game, it had been eighty degrees, but tonight, it finally felt like fall. Eric had his light Owl's jacket on, but it was unbuttoned, and if he had time, he would shed it. He was hot from running up and down the sidelines, shouting to his quarterback. The score was 21-20, with their opponent in the lead. It was the fourth quarter, and they'd just called their last time out.

The assistant coaches huddled around Coach Ramsey. "What do you boys think?"

"Bring in Tyler," Eric said.

"Instead of Ramirez?" Coach Arnold asked. "Are you insane?"

"Nah. Both of them. Keep Tyler far wide as a receiver."

"Dual quarterbacks?" Arnold asked. "You want to run a trick play? Do you have any idea how risky that is? Do you – "

"- I've run this with both of them. Repeatedly. They can pull it off."

"No," Arnold insisted. "It's too risky."

Coach Ramsey scratched his cheek. He looked at Arnold and then at Eric. "You sure about this, Eric?"

He wasn't, but the Owls were not going to get back on track playing it safe. Playing it safe was for when you were ahead. "Yeah," he lied. "I am."

Coach Arnold was shaking his head when Tyler jogged in. Eric glanced at Tami again, and she gave him the thumbs up.

Coach Taylor felt like he didn't breathe until it was all over, until he heard the announcer shout, "Touchdown!" Then the breath came out of him all at once, in one long rush. He bent over.

Eric stood again when Coach Ramsey slapped his back. "Well done, Eric. Well done!"

Coach Arnold looked like he wasn't sure whether to be happy over the win or jealous over the fact that Eric had been the one to pull it off. Coach Ramsey patted Arnold on the shoulder while pointing to Eric. "If you're smart, you'll make this man your number two next season, when you have the reins."

The crowd began to pour from the bleachers as the players slapped and hugged each other on their backs. Coach Ramsey nodded over Eric's shoulder.

Eric turned to receive Tami's sideline embrace. She pressed her body a little closer than she usually did in public, and she let her kiss linger a little longer too.

"You did good out there," she said. "You looked good too."

The pride surged through him until it pulled his lips into a grin. Then he noticed Julie wasn't with her. "Where's our daughter?"

"She's with the Sanchezes. They're taking her and Maria camping. I figured you wouldn't mind if she missed one game."

The Sanchezes didn't watch football, and Eric found that odd. They followed _soccer_, which Jorge Sanchez _called_ football. "Julie? Camping?"

"Well, they'll have a cabin and showers." She smiled. "And you and I will have the house to ourselves for two nights." She ran a hand through his thick, rumpled hair.

"I know, I gotta brush it before I come home."

"_No._ Leave it like this for me. I like the post-game look."

He leaned in to whisper, "I like that skirt. Don't change out of it." He kissed her quickly and then jogged after the tail end of the team, which was disappearing into the locker room.


	23. In the Wake of Victory

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

**[SMUT Warning: Skip to the next section if you don't like smutty Eric &amp; Tami scenes.]**

Tami finished arranging her gift to Eric. She set three bottles of craft beer – each crowned with a red bow – atop the green tablecloth on the kitchen table. This was her way of saying he was forgiven for his "conflict-avoidance issue." She just hoped he didn't repeat the pattern, but sooner or later, he probably would. Marriage was always two steps forward, one step back, but at least they were both committed to getting ahead together.

After counseling several women with abusive or adulterous or spendthrift husbands, after hearing even her ordinary friends complain about their husbands at the book club meetings, Tami figured she had it pretty good. Eric had his faults, but he was loyal, reliable, affectionate, occasionally romantic, and even capable of saying he was sorry. She never had any doubt that he loved her. And then there was the fact that he was a fine looking man, which was something she noticed other women noticing. He'd stayed in relatively good shape since college. He had that "tall, dark, and handsome" thing going for him, and those spectacular eyes, and that _voice_. Watching him coach tonight - taking charge of the field, giving commands, being decisive, assuming risks, running up the sidelines, his eyes on fire with excitement – had thrilled her.

She'd left her tight, black leather skirt on, as he asked, and her cowgirl boots, which she knew he found sexy, especially when they stretched to her knees, leaving just a hint of deliciously bare legs. Eric liked unzipping those boots, ever so slowly, and sliding them off. And sometimes, he liked leaving them on. Earlier, she'd shed the half jacket she'd been wearing at the game and had slid her bra out, so that he could see how snugly her white t-shirt pulled across her chest. She knew how much he loved tight shirts, and she didn't want him fumbling with her bra tonight.

She was planning to walk out of the kitchen to head out to the bedroom to wait for him there when she heard the front door close. The kitchen light was the only one on in the house, so he came straight there. She smiled, placed a hand on the table next to the beer bottles, and waited for him to remark on her gift, but his eyes were fixed exclusively on her.

His dark brown cap set off the darker hazel flecks in his eyes as they roamed her form. His black polo shirt emphasized his muscular shoulders. The weather was cool enough that he was in pants now instead of shorts. She liked him best in pants –khakis more than jeans, especially when he was wearing a belt, as he was now. She relished the idea of him unbuckling it and sliding it from the loops until it snapped. He lifted his cap off his head and tossed it on the counter next to him. His hair was untamed in exactly the way she liked it – not some light, distracting disorderliness, but that wild chaos that only happened after one of two events – sex or coaching.

He walked to where she stood, finally noticed the bottles, and smiled. "Thank you, babe." He leaned in and kissed her. She'd expected a quick peck to start, but his kiss was intense, and she responded more ardently than she had tongues danced together to the tune of a chorus of sighs. He slid a hand down from her shoulder to her left breast and squeezed. She could feel the gentle strength of his hand through the thin fabric of her shirt. "You didn't wear a bra tonight?"

"I took it off when I got home."

His eyes fell to her chest. He watched the outline of her hardened nipples grow against the white cotton of her shirt as he teased each one. Tami felt her knees buckle when he drew off her shirt and lowered his mouth to her breasts, one by one. She moaned and begged him to take her to the bedroom.

He drew away, but he didn't take her hand and tug her to bed as she expected. Instead, he gripped her hips, lifted her, and sat her down atop the table. She could feel the cool glass of one of the beer bottles against her bare back. Before she could speak, he crushed her lips with his own and pushed apart her knees, which stretched the tight leather of her skirt.

Breathing heavily, she pulled away from his mouth. "What are you thinking?" she asked. "We _eat _on this table."

"I'm thinking I just won a game," he said, his voice confident, the way it was when he gave orders on the field. He bit her neck gently. "I'm thinking that you get hot and bothered when you watch me coach." He put his lips very near to her ear. His low, husky tone sent a shiver through her spine. "I'm thinking we can throw away the tablecloth." His hand disappeared beneath her skirt. "I'm thinking you deserve a new one." He slipped a finger beneath the edge of the lacy panties she'd chosen to wear for him tonight. She'd planned on sex, but she hadn't quite planned on this. Usually, she was the one reducing him to incoherency, but at the moment, she was having trouble thinking. She gasped at his intimate touch. His breath was hot in her ear. "I'm thinking you're already wet."

He took his hand away, trailing his finger down her thigh as he drew it out from beneath her skirt. She whimpered. Why had he stopped touching her? Did he want her to beg? "You know what else I'm thinking, babe?" he asked.

Unable to speak, she shook her head.

He put both of his hands flat down on the tablecloth on either side of her hips, pinning her there. He held her gaze with his unflinching eyes. "I'm thinking I'll be calling the plays tonight."

**[Saturday]**

They spent a lazy Saturday morning in bed, caressing, cuddling, talking, making love, and napping. At about 11 AM, Tami told him she wanted him to get dressed and take her out.

"But there's an A&amp;M game on at noon," he said.

"We have a VCR. You can record it. _I'm_ calling the plays today."

They showered, dressed, and ate breakfast. They strolled hand in hand around the Fort Worth botanical gardens. Tami made him take her shopping downtown, so she could get her new tablecloth and a few other items. He spent most of the time asking, "Are you ready to go yet?"

When they passed a wine shop, she told him, "I think this is where Dale bought all that wine when he was visiting." She didn't dare say, _You should call him_, but she hoped the reminder of his existence would set the gears in motion. They ducked inside and did a full tasting.

Eric must have been thinking about Dale, because when Tami bought a bottle, he didn't even notice the price, and when they got home after their steakhouse dinner out, he didn't go straight to the living room to watch the A&amp;M game he'd recorded. Instead, he walked to the kitchen and stood in front of the kitchen wall phone, his hands lodged in the pockets of his khaki pants.

Tami arranged her brand new, floral tablecloth on the kitchen table while he just stared at the phone. When she was done smoothing it out, she came over, put a hand on his back and kissed his shoulder. "You're thinking of calling Dale, aren't you?"

"I was thinking of telling him about last night's game. And then I thought, he wouldn't care about that."

"You don't know that." She kissed his cheek and left him standing there. He was right at the edge of the water now. She was pretty sure he was going to drink.


	24. The Phone Call

**Chapter Twenty-four**

Eric reached for the phone, and just as his hand touched the receiver, it rang. "Taylor residence," he answered.

"Hey, little brother," came Dale's voice from the other end. "I just wanted to thank you again for your help on that case. We got the supplier in Cairo yesterday morning, because of the information we got from Hapi. We _got_ him."

Eric leaned against the refrigerator. "Owls won yesterday. Thanks to one of my calls."

"The Taylor brothers are cleaning up."

Eric looked down at the laminate floor and smiled.

"It was good to see you, Eric. To see Tami and my niece. To hang out. It was good."

Eric pushed the toe of his shoe against a spot on the floor, but the spot didn't move. "Yeah," he said. "I was glad to see you, Dale." He wanted to say, _I missed you_, but he through that would sound weird, from a brother to a brother.

"Look, Eric, I'm sorry."

"Well, Moss is at least talking to me now."

"I'm not sorry for that. I was doing my job. I'm sorry that after I graduated from college, I didn't try to be more a part of your life. I know when you were a little kid you used to follow me around like a puppy… and maybe I even fathered you like one. Mom and Dad were both working full-time back then, and Dad was never involved in your life unless it had to do with football. I was there for you when you were little, but then, by the time you were starting to become a young man…I was just gone for the most part. I should have been there for you, Eric, I should have been a big brother to you, as much as I could have given the distance. And I'm sorry. I'm sorry I just ran and hardly ever looked back."

"Where's all this coming from?" Eric asked.

"Maybe from the bottom of this glass of Garrison Brothers Texas straight bourbon whiskey I've been drinking. Though I still say bourbon can only be made in Kentucky."

Eric smiled. "You declare that when you went through customs in Cairo?"

"I'm not in Cairo. I'm on my house hunting trip, courtesy of the U.S. taxpayer. I impressed someone with this case, apparently, and I got offered the position of Special Agent in Charge of the Dallas Field Division. I'll be moving a week before Christmas. I fly back to Cairo on Tuesday to wrap up everything there."

Eric could almost feel himself smiling. "You're moving to Texas? So…are you in Dallas right now?"

"Yeah. I'm at the hotel bar, but I haven't checked in. I was thinking of spending my per diem on a good bottle of bourbon instead, staying at your place, maybe sharing it with you. I mean…if it's not an inconvenience."

"Nah. It's not. We'd love to have you. But are you fit to drive? You need me to get you?"

"I only had the one," Dale said. "I'm fine. I'll be there in…."

"- It takes about forty minutes to drive to Fort Worth."

"I'll be there in under an hour, then."

**[FNL]**

When Eric came into the living room, Tami paused, on the opening credits, the movie she'd rented that evening. She knew Eric would want to watch the recorded football game, but she thought maybe she could talk him into a little romantic comedy as payback for their fantastic Friday night and Saturday morning of sex.

_High Fidelity_ had come out on video over two years ago now, but all of the new releases were on DVD. There had only been three shelves of VHS tapes at the store. Tami had suggested to Eric that it might be time to upgrade to a DVD player, and he'd said, _What about all my game tape?_ She'd assured him they could have both machines, but he still wasn't quite ready to budge yet.

He was grinning when he slid down on the couch next to her. She dropped the remote to her side and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned sideways into her, looking contented. She kissed his forehead. "You called your brother, didn't you?"

"He called me, actually." He told her what Dale had told him and then apologized: "Sorry. I know we were supposed to have another night alone together."

"We had plenty of quality time," she said. "I'm glad you boys are going to spend some time together. And I'll make myself scarce when he gets here."

Eric turned his head to kiss her lips. "You're the best. You know that, right?"

"I do know that," Tami said, and they both laughed.

"We've still got at least forty minutes before Dale gets here," Eric said in a low, suggestive whisper.

"You're right, we do." Tami plucked up the remote and turned on the movie. "We can watch almost half of this."

Eric blinked, sighed, and put his feet up on the coffee table. He draped an arm around her, and she settled her head against his shoulder.

After they'd been watching for over half an hour, Eric occasionally chuckling despite his initial grumpy attitude toward the movie, Tami said, "My sister says she thinks you look like him."

"Who?"

She motioned to the screen. "John Cusack."

"I don't look anything like him."

"Of course, I was in high school and we were watching _Better Off Dead_ when she said that. I could kind of see it back then, in profile."

"I'm way better looking than that guy."

Tami chuckled. "If you could pick anyone to play me in a movie, who would you pick?"

He smirked. "Would I be playing opposite you?"

"No. You wouldn't be acting in the movie. This is not a chance for you to choose your fantasy actress to make out with. I'm asking what celebrity you think most resembles me."

"I guess I'd have Rayna James play you."

"She's not an actress. She's a country singer."

"Those country singers always do movies sooner or later, babe. And she looks a lot like you."

"I'm way better looking than Rayna James."

Eric laughed. "You do fill out a pair of cowgirl boots quite nicely."

She kissed his cheek. "So who is the fantasy actress you'd most like to make out with?"

"Judge, my client declines to answer that question."

She slapped him gently on the chest. "C'mon now. Tell me."

"I plead the fifth."

"Sweetheart, just tell– "

The doorbell chimed. Eric stood up, saying, "Saved by the bell!"

When Dale entered, he greeted Tami and thanked her for housing him again.

"No wine for me this time?" she asked.

"Sorry, just bourbon for my brother."

"Well you boys have fun. I think I'm going to turn in early."

**[FNL]**

Eric watched Tami retreat down the hall and thought how much he loved her before turning his attention to his brother. He grabbed two whiskey glasses from the kitchen and led Dale out to the back porch.

"Julie already asleep too?" Dale asked.

"Nah. She's camping with a friend this weekend."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt some special weekend with Tami."

"Nah. We already had our….uh…" Eric laughed, scratched his head, and concluded, "It's a'right." He wanted to say _I'm glad you're here_, but he couldn't for some reason.

Eric lit the outdoor fire pit. The fall temperature had dropped to 57 degrees tonight, which felt cold to him. "What was the temperature in Egypt when you left?" he asked.

"Low 20s."

"I thought it was hot. Isn't it a desert?"

"Celsius."

"Ah." They settled into two deck chairs and Dale poured them each two fingers of bourbon.

Eric sipped. The bourbon tasted slightly of pecans. He talked about his game a little. Dale talked about his case in Cairo and his impending promotion. Then silence fell. Eric struggled to think of something to say.


	25. Locker Room Talk

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

When Dale refilled their empty glasses, Eric could already feel the slightest buzz. He'd had some wine at dinner, but he'd also had a hefty steak. He hadn't expected to feel the bourbon so soon. Maybe the buzz was good, though, because it gave him the courage to pose a personal question: "So…are you just leaving that woman behind in Cairo? The one you're _fond_ of?"

"I'm hoping this ex-agent I know in Dallas will sponsor her for a work visa as a translator. She speaks Arabic, French, German, and English fluently. He heads up an international law firm now. If he agrees, and she agrees, she could move here, and we could keep dating."

"That's a long way to move for someone who just wants to date you."

"She wants to get out of Egypt anyway. And if she keeps dating me even after she has her ticket to America, well, then, maybe she really does love me." Dale took a sip of bourbon and sighed. "I've been thinking," he said softly. "Seeing you and Tami and Julie together when I was here ….I don't know. I don't think at this point in my life I could ever have something like your family has. "

"Why not?"

Dale looked at the flames leaping lazily from the firepit. He coughed and shifted in his chair, as though he was uncomfortable with his own seriousness, and he abruptly switched the subject. "Where did Tami get those panties I found under the couch?" he asked. "Was that from a store around here? Because I might want to get my woman a pair."

Eric was partly annoyed by Dale's embarrassingly personal quip, partly proud of the hot sex life he enjoyed with his wife, and partly pleased that his brother seemed to want to banter with him. He settled on a half amused, half irritated "Screw you" before taking a swig of bourbon.

"Well that _would_ be my goal in buying Cleopatra the panties."

"What?" Eric asked. "Cleopatra? That's not _really_ her name is it?"

"It is."

"You're making that up," Eric insisted.

"Scout's honor." Dale made the Boy Scout sign.

"You quit scouts after a year."

"Well, you quit it after two."

"Yeah," Eric said, "but not before I learned to tie a knot."

"Oh, is _that_ how Tami likes it?"

"Screw you," Eric said again, but he said it with a grin. "What do you call her? You don't actually _call_ her Cleopatra, do you?"

"Only when she wears a sexy breastplate and calls me Antony."

Eric chuckled and took a sip of his bourbon. "Tami wore a sexy Cleopatra costume one time, our senior year of high school, to this Halloween party."

"Is that when you started dating?"

"No. She was still dating Mo then. And I still had a steady long-distance girlfriend. She'd moved, but she hadn't broken up with me quite yet."

"Kimberley."

"Yeah." Eric was surprised he remembered. "You never met her, did you?"

"No. But you mentioned her on the phone. "

"Anyway, Mo was busy being the life of the party, so Tami was hanging out with me all night. In that damn Cleopatra costume. I swear," Eric leaned over in his chair and half whispered, "I had a hard-on the entire night."

Dale laughed. "Was it obvious? "

Eric had never been comfortable with the locker room talk in high school or college, but he'd joined in from time to time, just to experience the comradery. This conversation, however, felt surprisingly natural. Maybe it was his desire to bond with his brother. Or maybe it was the bourbon. "I don't think she noticed. I mean, she even asked me to drive her home, because she was tired and didn't want to wait for Mo."

"She noticed, brother."

"Nah."

"Yes, she did. Why do you think she asked you for the _ride_?"

"All she did when I dropped her off was kiss me on the cheek and say thank you. Honestly, though, that was enough at that point. I almost _lost_ it."

"You ever tell her this?"

"God, no," Eric said. "She'd think it was crass. She probably thinks my feelings toward her at that time were more...I don't know…."

"Honorable?"

"Dale, man, I just wanted to…" Eric shook his head. "God you should have seen those things in that breastplate. They were glorious."

Dale laughed. "You're empty." He poured Eric some more bourbon and then topped himself off. "When did you and Tami finally get together?"

"I first asked her out in late November," Eric answered. "Kimberly had dumped me, and Tami had dumped Mo."

"Why did Kimberley dump you, anyway?"

"She said I didn't seem _into_ her enough, so she couldn't commit to following me to A&amp;M after all. She had to do what was in her best interests, and she could get in-state tuition at Oklahoma State."

"Sounds like a smart girl." Dale mused. "Most girls that age would just follow their hearts, instead of thinking it through."

"She was smart. And pretty. I have no idea why I didn't love her more than I did."

"Because she wasn't Tami," Dale said. "And why did Tami dump Mo? Was it because you and Kimberley weren't together anymore?"

"Nah. She even said no when I asked her out the first time. She dumped Mo because he was cheating on her."

"Did you know about it?"

"We played football together," Eric said, as though that were answer enough. "I didn't tell Tami, though. You don't do that to your football brothers. But when Kimberley broke up with me…" He shrugged. "We were all friends, me and Mo and Kimberley and Tami. We hung out all spring and summer. So when Kimberley moved, we kept hanging out, just the three of us. And I kind of got to feeling like Mo didn't deserve Tami. And if he didn't deserve her, and I didn't have a girlfriend…well, I might as well have a shot."

"So you told her Mo was cheating?"

Eric shook his head. "I knew Mo and this girl made out under the bleachers during lunch A, because Tami had lunch C. Tami and I had Physics while Mo had lunch. The class was doing individual projects, and she wanted to do something about gravity, dropping objects or something, so I say – you should really ask if you can get a pass and go out and do that from the bleachers. You can get up really high in the bleachers and drop that stuff."

Dale laughed. "You little Machiavelli, you."

"So she catches Mo and breaks up with him. I wait two weeks, and then I ask her out. She says no. So I wait three days, and I ask her out again. She says no. So I wait -"

"- Sounds a little stalker-like."

"She liked me. She was just upset about Mo. She wasn't over him, wasn't over the betrayal. So finally I tell her, look, I get it, we'll just hang out as friends. Two friends going out for ice cream. Two friends going out to the movies. Two friends going to a party on Christmas Eve. Two friends happening to find themselves under the mistletoe."

Dale laughed. "You knew _exactly_ where the mistletoe was, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. But I tell you what – after that kiss, she agreed to officially date me. But only if I agreed to take it slow." Damn this bourbon was good. He didn't even care what he was saying anymore. "So we didn't …you know…go all the way until May 26."

"You remember the _exact_ date?"

"It was kind of unforgettable, Dale. No girl had _ever_ made me wait that long. I guess after getting burned by Mo, she wanted to know I was serious. But I wasn't used to that. Being put off that long."

"Ah…the life of a small town football star."

"What?"

"You really don't know how easy it was for you, do you, little brother? Do you know I didn't lose my virginity until I was 19?"

"What? What about high school?"

Dale shook his head.

"Your freshman year of college? Before you and Cindy were together?"

Another head shake. "Nope. Lost it to Cindy. When I was 19."

"Not possible."

"True story. Bourbon tells no lies."

"Why?" Eric asked.

"The girls were all chasing the football players."

"Girls like baseball players too."

"Yeah, but I wasn't that good."

"You were the best. I remember you knocking them out of the park."

Dale laughed. "Then your memories are clouded, brother. I was an average player. Completely average. And I was damn lanky back then. I didn't really fill out until I started seriously lifting weights in college. And I was covered in zits in high school. Do you not remember the horror of my face?"

"Nah. Not really. You took a girl to homecoming, to senior prom, to – "

"- I was the last-minute cancellation fill-in. Every time. Yeah, I might have had the opportunity to get laid by some random girl at a party my freshman year of college, but Cindy was my first _serious_ girlfriend. And as much as I wanted to get laid, I wanted it to be with an _actual_ girlfriend. Not some…rally girl."

"Hey!" Eric sat forward in his chair and almost sloshed some bourbon out of his glass. "Amy was…we were _dating_. Three whole months we'd been dating. It wasn't even football season. It was spring. That was my birthday present."

"You were still a freshman, Eric. You were fifteen and an hour. Would you want Julie losing her virginity at _fifteen_?"

"That's different."

Dale swirled the remaining bourbon in his glass. "Because she's a girl?"

"No. Because she's _**my**_ girl. My _**little**_ girl." Eric took a large swallow. His emotions moved in rapid fire from anger to annoyance to regret. He sighed. "But you're right. I was way too young," he admitted. " Honestly, it wasn't even that good the first time. It took like…I don't know…"

"15 seconds?"

Eric laughed. "Not long anyway. And it must have _really_ not been good for her. She said it was…and I let myself believe her, but I realize now that she just wanted me to like her. And she probably thought sex was what she had to do to make me keep liking her."

"Was it?"

Eric grimaced. He sipped his bourbon, hissed, and said, "I was an asshole. Is that what you brought me out here to tell me? That I used to be an asshole?"

"Every teenage boy is an asshole." Dale held up his glass. "Make sure Julie knows that."

"Oh, I will."

"It's a good thing I'm moving here, little brother, because you're going to need someone to run background checks on her dates in a couple of years."

"She's not dating until she's 18."

"If you want, I can pick up a chastity belt in Cairo, before I move."

Eric smirked. "You're empty." He poured Dale some more, and topped himself off while he was at it. The bottle was getting low.

"Who was after Amy?" Dale asked. "Who was your fling that July? I thought _her_ name was Amy."

"Angie."

"Oh yeah. _Angie._ I met her when I came home to surprise Mom for her birthday. She was a lot older than you, wasn't she?"

"Two years. "

"She was good-looking, all right. Dumb as rocks, though, wasn't she?"

"Hey!"

"I know. It's an insult to rocks."

Eric laughed. "Yeah, she wasn't too bright."

"It must have been hard to have a conversation with her."

"We uh…we weren't having a whole lot of conversations."

Dale laughed and topped them both off with a smidgen more bourbon, even though the glasses weren't near empty yet. "That couldn't have lasted long, though. How long did that last after Mom's birthday? Another two weeks?"

"Three months. After you flew back to Miami, that night, Dad comes in my room, just stands there in the door frame, and says, _Dump her_. Just like that. I say, _Why?_ And he says, _She's an idiot, and she'll be a distraction when the season starts. Dump her by the end of the week._ And then he walks out the door."

"So that's why you stuck with her for another three months, then? Just to piss him off?"

"Yeah. Probably. And it was a pretty torturous three months."

"So who was your next girlfriend? Ava, right? Cheerleader?"

"Damn, Dale, how do you remember all this?"

"I think you were working your way through the A's. I met her too. I didn't come home often, but _every time_ I did you introduced me to a new girlfriend. Here, Dale, look how often I'm getting laid! Don't you wish you were me!"

"It wasn't like that," Eric said.

"How long did Ava last?"

"I don't remember exactly," Eric muttered.

"And next it was….Sharon?"

Eric rolled a little bourbon on his tongue and then swallowed. "Shannon."

"Was she the one who brought you pot?"

"Mo McArnold brought me pot. You made him piss his pants. You don't remember?"

"I thought you had a girl with you that night."

Eric laughed hard. "Ah….I'd love to tell Mo that."

"You guys are still friends?"

"Nah. He stopped talking to me after I started dating Tami. Blamed me instead of himself for losing her."

"Whatever happened to him?" Dale asked.

"I don't know. Heard he dropped out of Georgia State after he got injured, moved back to Texas, went into real estate or something. That's the last I heard." Eric sipped.

"Who was after Sharon?"

"Shannon," Eric corrected him.

"There was someone before Kimberley, right?"

"Layla."

"Layla!" Dale sang. "I'm down on my knees, I'm begging you please, to –

"- Come home!" Eric sung.

"Layla!"

They both laughed.

"She was mostly the one down on her knees, though, I bet," Dale said.

Eric imitated his brother's voice. "Grow the fuck up, Dale."

"What?"

Eric grinned. "You don't remember telling me that? You know, that summer you caught me smoking pot?"

"I don't, but if I did tell you that, I'm sure I was right."

"You _were_ right."

"And now we're up to Kimberley, correct? She was next?"

"That," Eric said in a defensive tone of voice, pointing at his brother with his glass in hand, "lasted seven months and then another nine weeks long distance. If she hadn't moved, I might be with her instead of Tami today." He steadied his glass, seeing that he'd almost sloshed out some precious liquid, bobbed back and forth a bit, and contemplated the bizarre possibility of being married to _anyone_ but Tami. It was like trying to imagine himself inhabiting some other man's body.

"Does Tami know about your checkered past?"

"Hers is just as checkered."

Dale studied him over his glass. "_Really?_"

"Nah," Eric said, hastily, regretting his thoughtless response. "Not nearly as checkered."

Tami had dated two guys in high school before Eric – the drummer and then Mo. There was a third one, an older boy she'd had a crush on half of her freshman year. She'd run into him at a party and wanted to impress him, and, a little bit drunk, she'd agreed to follow him into one of the bedrooms. She lost her virginity at that party, when she was just fifteen, and the next day, the boy acted like he didn't even know her. She didn't tell Eric about that until a year after they were married. He'd always assumed the drummer was her first. She'd been so ashamed of her foolishness that she hadn't wanted to tell Eric about it. She was afraid he'd think less of her, and while it surprised and somewhat disappointed him that she would give her virginity to a boy she wasn't even dating, he knew they had both matured.

"We were so young," Eric told Dale. "And we were so naïve. We thought nothing could hurt us. We thought high school was the most important time of our lives. And we didn't have much guidance."

Dale looked thoughtfully into the small line of brown liquid that still lingered in his glass. "This is some grown-up shit we're talking about."

He said it with such seriousness that Eric laughed. "Well, Dale, we're some grown-ass men!"

Dale smiled. They toasted each other.

"To being grown-up," Eric said.

They sipped.

Eric laughed.

"What's so funny?"

"I don't even know," Eric admitted.

Dale laughed. They both sipped again, and then Dale, as if coming to a sudden revelation, said, "So wait a minute! Christmas to May 26. _Five months_ Tami made you wait even after you started dating? _You_? The star quarterback of the Midland Mountain Lions? Fucking football-throwing Eric Taylor?"

Eric laughed. He could feel his head starting to spin a bit. "I thought my balls were going to fall off," he said. "I swear to God. I was in so much pain."

"Been there," Dale assured him.

"But by the time we _did_ do it, I was in love with her. I mean, I'd fallen _hard_. And the sex was completely different. I'd never had that kind of sex before."

"You weren't in love with Kimberley?"

"Not like that. I was fond of her. Isn't that what you said? You're _fond_ of Cleopatra? "

"She goes by Queen of the Nile," Dale said. "Or Cleo, you know, to her friends."

Eric chuckled, sipped, swallowed, and swirled the bourbon glass in the air. "Are you fond of her, Dale, or do you looooooove her?"

"You're going to be seriously hung over in the morning. I hope Tami doesn't make you go to church tomorrow."

"So I guess _you_ haven't set foot in a church since high school, without a wife to make you go."

"I've been to Cleo's church at few times. She's Coptic Orthodox. That service is almost three hours. And you stand the whole time. They don't even have pews. I don't even get to stand with her. I have to stand with her bother because the men are on one side and the women are on the other. But she asks me to go, so I go."

Eric peered at him over the rim of his glass. He was grinning somewhat wildly at this point. "So she's really old school, your Queen of the Nile, huh? Separate sections for the men and women in church?"

"It's Egypt."

"But…I mean…." Eric smiled. "C'mon. Three years you've been seeing her? I mean…you _know_ what I'm asking? You know, right? You knoooooow."

Dale grinned. "Modest in public but abandoned in bed. She just doesn't ever stay the night. We take long lunch breaks."

"During work?"

"Yeah. And her family didn't know we were seeing each other for the longest time. She just kept calling me her American co-worker."

"They knew she worked with the DEA?"

"They cooperated with us, that community."

"But you eventually told her family you were dating?"

"No. Her brother figured out we were seeing each other. Told me if I dishonored her, I'd end up in a ditch."

"What did he mean by dishonor? Does he know you're having sex with her?"

"I don't know. But I'm not in a ditch yet."

"So let me get this straight, Dale. For this woman, you'll go to a three-hour-long church service. You'll risk ending up in a ditch. But you're just _fond_ of her?" Eric threw back his head and laughed, a deep, hearty laugh that turned into a cackle.

The sliding glass door rolled open. "What the hell is going on out here?" Tami asked. She was dressed in sweats and an Owls t-shirt. Her hair was rumpled, as though she'd been sleeping. "Eric, it's midnight. You're going to wake the neighbors."

Eric turned back and looked at her. He thought he was whispering, but it was more like a raspy shout. "Hey, Tami, where'd you get those panties? Dale wants to know."

"_What?_"

"The red silk ones," Eric said, "with the little ties on the side?"

"Eric, let me tell you what's going to happen here." Tami's words fell one by one, calmly and deliberately, almost in slow motion. At least, it felt like slow motion to Eric. "I'm going to slide this door closed. In five minutes, you're going to come inside and drink three glasses of water. Then you're going straight to bed."

There was a creek as the glass slid shut.

Dale had been biting down on his laughter but now it rumbled out. "You're going to be in soooooo much trouble tomorrow morning!"

Eric shook his head. "Nah," he said. "You don't understand _why_ I loooooove my wife. Love her love her love her love her!" He swirled his empty glass in the vague direction of his brother. "She'll be annoyed. She's going to call me an _idiot a_nd she's not going to have sex with me tomorrow. Or Monday. But that's _**all**_. See – Tami's gonna be happy that I was happy cuh, cuhnec, _connecting_ with my big brother. Cuh-nect-ting. Cuhnec-ting. That's a funny word. Cuh-nect-ing."

Dale reached down, picked up the bottle of bourbon and proceeded to empty the last of it into their two glasses.

"Shhhh!" Eric told him. "Don't let Tami hear you pouring!"

"Quiet as a mouse," Dale whispered.

Eric laughed.

Dale laughed.

"Shhhh!" Eric said.

Dale leaned over and put an arm around Eric's shoulder. "I love you, man. I love you, little brother."

"I love you too, man." Eric hugged back. "I love you so much." He pulled back and pointed his glass at Dale. "But I tell you what - if you ever mention my wife's panties again, I'll fucking kill you."

"You're drunk."

"_You're_ drunk!"

"Shhh!" Dale said.

"Shhhhhh!" Eric shouted. "Tami will hear you!"

"Shhhh! We have to get you inside, little brother. _Quietly_."

They stumbled their way in, through a curtain of giggles.


	26. Yee-haw!

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Eric ground out a long, slow, painful groan.

"What's wrong?" Tami asked as she slammed shut the drawer of the night stand on his side of the bed. "Am I being too loud, sugar?" She leaned down and shouted in his ear, the one that was not smashed against the pillow, "Does your head hurt?" She stood back up and continued opening and closing drawers.

He opened one eye and saw that the clock read 8:30 AM. What was she doing being so loud at 8:30 AM? "Could you bring me some aspirin and some water?" he muttered.

"I don't think so, Eric. I'm still trying to find the receipt from where I bought those panties. So I can tell Dale where I got them_._" She walked over to the little vanity table where she often sat to brush her hair and pulled open and slammed shut each drawer, shouting after each one, "No. Not there!"

"Tami!" He rolled over on his back and cupped the pillow in a U upward around his ears. "C'mon now. Haven't you punished me enough?"

She sat on the end of the bed and put a hand on his hip. "What was that all about last night? My panties?"

"Dale found them. Under the couch. From, you know…that one time. Last time he was here he found them, and I guess we talked about them last night."

"_You_ talked about my panties? With Dale?"

"It made sense. In context. I think."

"Oh good Lord." In a kinder, gentler tone, she asked, "Did you have a good time with your brother?"

Eric grinned. "I did. I really did."

"Good," she said sincerely. "I'm really glad you did." She bent down and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Now get on out of bed and get dressed, sugar. You volunteered to teach Sunday School to the third grade boys this morning."

Eric's eyes shot open. "What?"

"You need to put these things on your calendar, Eric."

"Dale's here. I can't just leave him and go to church."

"Sure you can. He probably won't even wake up until we're back."

"Tami. Please. Babe. My head."

She sighed. "Fine. I'll cover your class for you. I might go out with some of the ladies for lunch. The Sanchezes are dropping Julie at home at noon. Make sure you're presentable by then."

**[FNL]**

When Eric dragged himself out of bed at 10:30, Dale was cooking. "Making some good hangover food, brother," he said.

Eric slumped down at the kitchen table with a cup of hot coffee. "Why don't _you_ seem hung over?"

"I've had ten more years than you to build my tolerance." Dale handed his brother a plate of bacon and eggs.

Eric's stomach lurched at the thought of eggs, but the bacon appealed. He drank coffee, munched on the bacon, downed some more water, took two aspirin, and showered. When he came out of to the living room, Dale was sitting on the couch and talking on his cell phone. "I know it's not as important as what you're doing now, ma belle, but it pays well. and it comes with a ticket to America. Jack's interested. Do you want me to give him your resume or not?"

Eric nodded to Dale and then slumped into his recliner and turned on some game tape on mute.

"They don't have anyone who speaks Arabic at that firm," Dale continued. "French and German will be icing on the cake." Eric fast forwarded to a particular point in the tape as Dale continued talking. "Uh…sure," Dale said. "You _could_ look for an apartment, but I found a very nice condo yesterday. I'll send you photos. I mean…if you wanted to save on rent, we could - "

Dale fell silent, as though he'd been interrupted. "Yes, I realize we're not married, but this is America, and – " Dale switched to French, at least Eric assumed it was French. It sounded kind of Frenchy.

When he'd hung up, Eric glanced back at him. "Your Queen of the Nile doesn't want to shack up with you?"

"Apparently not. In Egypt, I thought it was just an issue of her not wanting her family to know we were…intimate. But I guess it's more than that." He tapped his phone on his knee and then slid it into his pocket. "

Eric continued to face him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Dale said.

"If you want to live with her, why don't you just propose?"

"When did you move in with Tami?"

"Second semester of my freshman year."

"And why didn't you just propose then?" Dale asked.

"Well…I mean…we were still in college. I didn't have a twenty year career under my belt. And I wanted to be sure, before I made a commitment like that."

"Yeah, well, I was sure once, and I turned out to be wrong. It was bad enough finding that out three weeks from the altar. I'd hate to find that out _after_ I'd taken vows."

There was a rustling at the door, and Julie walked in. Eric rose and waved goodbye to the Sanchezes through the living room window as they pulled away. He was glad his hangover was fading.

Julie squealed to see Uncle Dale and hugged him. The she suggested taking him to the Fort Worth Stockyards to see the cattle drive. "They herd the Longhorn right through the street," she told him. "Twice a day. It's totally cool. Then maybe we can go to Billy Bob's."

"I'm not taking you to a honky-tonk, Julie," Eric said. "I don't think they even let anyone under 21 in there."

"They do until seven. I just meant after the cattle drive, for like an hour, until like 6, so he can see it. It's the biggest honky-tonk in all of Texas, Dad! I can get a root beer. There won't be hardly anybody in there that early."

"I want to see the biggest honky-tonk in all of Texas, Eric" Dale insisted. "Put that on my list of important landmarks I've seen. Right alongside the Great Pyramid of Giza."

Eric gave in. He called Tami and told her to meet them there. She saddled in that afternoon fully dressed the part, cowgirl hat and all. There was some music playing from the juke box, and a single couple on the dance floor, but Julie was right. The place was pretty empty at that time.

"Yee-haw!" Dale said when Tami sat down on the bench across from him at the picnic-style table.

"You go ahead and mock me, Dale," she said, "but if you're going to be living here, you're going to have to readjust yourself to the culture. " Tami looked at Eric and smiled coquettishly. "You know what I think, sweetheart? I think you owe me one after I covered your Sunday School class. Maybe Dale can take Julie home when they kick out the under 21s, and you and I can stay behind and catch a cab home later. They've got live music and dancing tonight."

"Fine by me," Dale said. Julie was currently playing pinball out of ear shot of the table, using the stack of quarters Dale had given her.

"Tonight?" Eric asked.

"Eric _never_ takes me line dancing," Tami told Dale. "And he's not bad at it."

"How do you know if he never takes you?" Dale asked.

"I've forced him to go a time or two." She returned her attention to Eric. "You're dancing with me," she insisted. "And maybe riding the bull."

"I'm not riding any bull."

Dale laughed. "Well, if only you're cooperative, brother, someone might be riding something tonight."

Eric flushed, but Tami laughed.

"Can you make sure she goes to bed by ten?" Tami asked Dale. "It's a school day tomorrow."

"Sure."

"Hey, it's a school day tomorrow for me too," Eric said. "How late do you plan for us to be out?"

"When did he turn into an old man?" Dale asked Tami.

"When he was about twenty-one," Tami said.

Eric stood. "I'm going up to the bar to get us some beers. I don't think we're getting any table service this time of day. You two can make fun of me while I'm gone."

Dale smiled at Tami when he was gone. "You look lovely in the hat. I didn't mean to make fun. I've been away from Texas a long time."

"And now you're going to settle in Dallas."

"It'll be good to be near family again."

Tami didn't tell him Eric was thinking of moving to Dillon. She assumed her husband was going to scrap that plan in due time anyway. He was back in favor on the Owls and would likely continue to rise in favor, and his brother was now going to be here in the DFW area. Dillon, on the other hand, was almost a four hour drive from Dallas in the vast land that was Texas. Tami and Julie both liked it in Fort Worth. It made no sense to move at this point.

Tami looked past the bar where Eric was ordering to a table the other side where five women sat talking and giggling and clearly admiring her husband. "Why don't you go ask one of those women to dance?"

Dale glanced at the table.

"They're all pretty," she said.

"Yes, but I'm in a relationship."

"You are?" Eric hadn't mentioned the fact to her.

He told her about Cleo.

"Well y'all will have to come to Christmas dinner at our house then. Will she come when you move?"

"She'll probably come for a bit on a tourist visa in December, and then go back to Egypt for a while, until her work visa can clear, assuming she gets the job. But I'm sure she will, because…"

Tami didn't hear the rest of what he said because she was looking past him to the bar, where one of those five attractive women now appeared to be standing very close to her husband and flirting with him.


	27. A Blast from the Past

**Chapter Twenty-seven**

While he was waiting on the beers, leaned with his elbows on the bar, Eric heard a woman say, "_Eric Taylor_?"

He stood straight and turned. He didn't know who this woman was who stood before him. She was pretty though.

"Are you Eric Taylor?" When he nodded, she said, "You don't remember me, do you?"

"Sure. You're…uh….one of my player's mothers." He wasn't going to try to guess which one, but maybe he could pull off this bluff if he was vague enough. Then again, this woman looked a little young to have a teenager. She was closer to his age. Tami had gotten pregnant with Julie while they were still in college, and even Julie wasn't a teenager yet.

She laughed. "No. I'm not anybody's mother. I'm Kimberly Maddox. You and I dated. In high school."

"Oh!" He laughed. "I didn't recognize you. With the hair." She'd dyed it black. She'd had very light brown hair in high school. "And you're older." Had that sounded insulting? "But I mean, you've aged well." Aged well? What the hell was he thinking? That probably sounded even more insulting. "I mean, you look good. You look _really_ good." Better than he remembered her looking in high school. She was attractive then, but when he thought back on his high school girlfriends, he didn't think of them as being attractive now, maybe because he still thought of them as girls, and he was only attracted to women. But this was definitely a woman standing before him.

"You look good, too," she said.

"I was just thinking of you last night."

She smiled. "Really?"

Why had he said that? Did that sound like a come on? "I'm here with my wife and daughter," he hastened. "Do you live here?"

She shook her head. "I live in Galveston. I'm just having a girl's weekend with some old college friends. We meet up once a year in a different state and city." She waved back at a table full of women on the other end of the bar, and they giggled and smiled at Eric and whispered to each other.

"How long have you been married?" she asked.

"Over twelve years."

"That long? Did you get married in college?"

"During my senior year," he said. "You actually know my wife." He motioned back at the table across the bar and on the far side of the honky-tonk, where Dale was talking to Tami but Tami was looking over Dale's shoulder in their direction. Julie had her back to them both, on the far side of the honky-tonk, where she was still playing pinball.

"Is that…Tami Hayes?" Kimberley asked.

"Yeah."

"Mo's girlfriend?"

"Well, not anymore. Not for a long time."

"I know y'all still hung out after I moved, but...when did you and she start dating?"

"Not until _after_ you broke up with me," he insisted.

"How _long_ after?" Eric opened his mouth to answer, but Kimberley waved him silent. "Never mind. That was years ago. I don't want to know. Water under the bridge."

"I didn't cheat on you."

"I don't need to know, Eric."

"I want you to know. You were the first girlfriend I tried to be serious about. I really did try to be a good boyfriend."

"And you were. You just didn't love me like I loved you. I finally figured that out."

"I – "

She waved her hand again. "That was so long ago. I got over it."

He hoped she had found somebody to love her the way she deserved to be loved. "You got married?"

"No. I've had a couple of decent relationships, but I'm happy being single now. I love my job."

"Did you become a doctor?" That had been her ambitious plan in high school.

"A marine biologist, actually. That's why I live on the coast."

He glanced back. Tami was still eyeing them. She didn't look happy. "You want to say hello? To Tami?"

Kimberley followed him over and introductions were exchanged. Tami smiled when she found out who the woman was, but Eric recognized it as her for-the-boosters smile: charming, grand, but not quite genuine.

The women hugged each other. Tami, as if to prove she was not the least bit intimidated by the sudden reappearance of an ex-girlfriend, invited Kimberly to sit down with them. Eric wished she hadn't. This was going to be extremely awkward.

When Eric sat down next to Tami, and Kimberley sat down next to Dale, Dale looked across the table at him with a thinly suppressed smirk.

"I never met your brother before," Kimberley said, looking back and forth between them. "You guys don't look a lot of like."

Dale was less stocky than Eric, and two inches shorter, with lighter brown hair. He wasn't precisely skinny, but he was lean like a swimmer. His eyes were also hazel, but with more blue than brown, and he was, of course, ten years older.

"I take after my mom," Dale said. "Eric takes after our dad."

"But you're both very good-looking," Kimberley said.

Eric had his arms crossed on the table, and Tami slid closer to him and laced her arms through one of his. "Yes, **m_y_ **husband is very good-looking," she said, but she need not have been so possessive, because it was pretty clear to Eric that Kimberley was looking right at Dale when she said those words. She also glanced down at Dale's ring finger.

"What do you do for a living?" Kimberley asked him. She hadn't asked what Eric did for a living.

"I thought people didn't ask that question in Texas," Dale said. "That's what they asked in New York. Here I thought they asked you who your favorite football team is."

Kimberley smiled. "So who _is_ your favorite football team?"

"I don't follow football."

"Really? I thought all the Taylors were obsessed with football."

"Not this one," Dale said. "I'll watch baseball from time to time. I used to play."

"I can tell from the arms."

Eric tried not to roll his eyes. Sure, Dale's two years of high school baseball could be identified in his arms.

"You can?" Dale asked with a chuckle, sarcastically flexing a muscle. Kimberley giggled. _Giggled_, Eric noted. "I haven't played in years, actually. Maybe I got these arms shooting rifles."

"You're military?" Kimberley asked.

"I'm a D.E.A. special agent."

"Is that dangerous?" She put two fingers on her cheek and cocked her head at him. "That sounds dangerous."

"You want to meet our daughter?" Tami asked her. "She's over there playing pinball."

"Sure," Kimberley answered.

Eric tensed. He didn't like the idea of his daughter being introduced to some ex-girlfriend. As if reading his mind, Tami said, "Relax. I'll introduce her as one of my old school friends. Because she was."

"We were all friends," Kimberley agreed. "The four of us used to hang out all the time that last half of our junior year." She turned to Tami, her smile a little tight. "I had no idea you were attracted to Eric. I must have been clueless back then."

"I wasn't," Tami assured her. "Not when I was with Mo. Eric and I didn't even start dating until almost two months after _you_ broke up with _him_."

"Emphasis noted," Kimberley said and stood. "Let me meet this girl your gorgeous genes combined to produce."

Tami smiled, a sincere smile this time, put a hand on Kimberley's shoulder, and led her toward the pinball machine.

When the ladies were gone from the table, Eric said, "You planning to mention to Kimberley that you have a girlfriend?"

"If it comes up," Dale said. "But I'm not going to just interject it. Then it will be obvious I know she's coming onto me, and that will embarrass her."

Eric glanced back to where Julie, Kimberley, and Tami were talking. Then he returned his eyes to his brother. "I just think you should mention it."

Dale laughed. "Are you jealous she's coming on to me instead of you?"

"No! I just don't understand why, if you're serious about this woman Cleo, you wouldn't mention her when another woman is coming on to you. Unless you're just keeping your options open."

"I'm being polite, Eric. And besides, I'm not in charge of my options."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"How many girls have you broken up with in your life?"

They'd gone through the list last night, but Eric still had to think about it. Amy, Angie, Ava, Shannon, Layla. Not Kimberley. She'd ended that. Not Tami. Only death would end that. "Five."

"Five. By the time you were seventeen. You know how many women I've broken up with in my forty-three years of life?"

Eric shook his head.

Dale held his fingers up in the shape of a zero. "They always break up with me first."

"Yeah, but how many have you committed yourself to?"

"I've never cheated on a woman. Never."

"That's not what I mean. I mean, how many have you wholeheartedly committed yourself to?" Eric got the impression Dale tried to keep his heart under lock and key. He might have fallen for Cleo despite his careful guard, but he was probably denying the fact to himself.

"Well, but that's – " Dale didn't finish. Tami, Julie, and Kimberley were nearing the table.

Dale looked at his watch when they sat down. "I better get you home, Julie," he said. He held his hand out to Eric for the keys to the pick-up they'd come in. Tami had taken the bus. "See you two back at home later," he said when he had the keys. "Nice to meet you, Kimberly."


	28. Spoilsport

**A/N:** I hope people are still reading and enjoying this. Comments are very welcome! Please leave one.

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

"C'mon, now!" Tami complained. "Come do the tush push."

"I'm not doing any tush push," Eric insisted. "And frankly, considering how many beers you've had, I'm not sure you should be attempting it either." She'd thrown back quite a few, especially in the last hour. He was a little surprised she wasn't dancing on a table at this point.

Tami pouted. "C'mon now, Eric. Don't be a spoilsport!"

"Let me tell you something - I two stepped with you. I did the cowboy boogie. But I'm not doing any tush push."

"But you have such a nice tush." She slapped his ass and laughed.

"I'll do the tush push with you, Tami," Kimberley said, drawing up behind them. She'd visited with them for a while and then, to Eric's relief, disappeared back to her table of friends when the live music and dancing started. They'd crossed paths occasionally throughout the night, but for the most part Kimberley had left Eric and Tami to themselves. She'd been dancing with her friends and with the occasional man.

Tami put an arm around Kimberley's waist and strutted with her to the dance floor. She threw a parting glance back at Eric, saying, "Have fun watching, sweetheart."

**[FNL]**

"If I tell you something," Julie asked. "Will you promise not to tell my father?"

Uncle Dale jumped one of her checkers and took it. "No."

Julie was sitting on the living room floor, her legs under the coffee table, across from her uncle, who was on the couch. "My Aunt Shelley always says yes."

"Well your Uncle Dale makes no promises," he said. "But if it's not something your father _needs_ to know, I won't tell him."

"There's a boy I like at school."

"Oh, well, he definitely doesn't need to know that. Not yet anyway."

Julie moved a checker forward. "He's totally cute."

"Well, that's important," Uncle Dale said. "Cuteness is a key criteria in determining the worth of a young man."

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"Not at all. You're in 6th grade."

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Well I'm guessing you're not looking for a life partner just yet."

"Are you?" Julie asked.

Uncle Dale laughed. "It's rude to point out to unmarried adults that they're unmarried. I'm sure your mother has told you that."

"I'm just saying….my Aunt Shelley is totally single. And I know you think she's way too young for you, but you're _both_ adults _now_."

Uncle Dale jumped another one of her checkers. He wasn't losing on purpose, the way a lot of adults did. "I last saw your aunt at a family Christmas dinner your parents hosted when you were about five." Julie couldn't remember where they were living when she was five. Abilene, she thought. Or maybe that was when they were in Lubbock. "She was an adult then," Uncle Dale continued. "Twenty-two I think. And to be perfectly honest, I'm not sure she and I would be….intellectually compatible."

Julie was aware that her uncle was implying that her aunt was stupid. She understood what adults were saying more than her peers did, but that was owing more to an intellectual than an emotional maturity. Intellectually, Julie was 15. But emotionally, she was still just 11. "My Aunt Shelley is a lot smarter than people think. And what do you want?" she asked. "A rocket scientist?"

"I'd love a rocket scientist. But I'm already seeing someone. She's not a rocket scientist, but she does have a Ph.D. in linguistics. "

"Oh. I didn't _know_ you had a girlfriend. You could have just said that from the beginning. What's linguistics?"

"The study of languages."

"Can you get a job studying languages?" Julie asked.

"You can, but they're few and far between. That's probably why she's a translator instead." Uncle Dale glanced at his watch. "10:05," he said. "I promised your mother."

Julie sighed. "I wish I could have stayed to dance with them. I'm the only one taking dance lessons, after all."

**[FNL]**

Eric relaxed against a wooden pillar, his arms crossed over his chest, as he watched his wife and Kimberley dance. He supposed it was better that they were getting along than that there should be any jealous tension between them, but he wished they would not hang out together at all. He was glad to be able to observe from a safe distance.

Tami was doing fairly well with the tush push, considering how tipsy she was. Eric's face broke into a smile as he admired her.

A man in a black cowboy hat paused next to him and raised a beer bottle to his lips. "You hittin' both of those?" he asked.

"What?" Eric stood up straight.

"I said you hittin' both of those?"

"I would never hit a woman."

The man in the black cowboy hat laughed. "No, I mean… I bet they make for a good threesome. I'd love to have them _both_ back at the shack if you know what I mean. Are they sisters? And – hello." He was looking over Tami now. "_Nice_ ass."

Every nerve in Eric's body tensed. "Hey! That's _my_ wife's ass you're looking at right now."

The man was staring straight at it. "Well, she's putting it out there, isn't she?" He tilted his head sideways.

Eric, with all the strength he could muster, resisted the urge to take a swing at him, went onto the dance floor, grabbed Tami's hand, and tugged. He waved at Kimberley as he did so. "You have fun now. We have to get going. Nice seeing you again."

Tami protested the entire time he dragged her toward the door. Finally she worked her way loose from his hand just as they were about twenty feet from the exit. "I want to dance, Eric!"

"You've had a lot of beers, Tami. I have to work tomorrow. _You_ have to work tomorrow."

"You called a cab already?"

"I'll call one outside."

"What? Why are we leaving when you haven't even called a cab yet?"

He stepped forward and kissed her passionately. She was startled, but it had the intended effect and silenced her protests. "Because I'm madly in love with you, babe," he said when he pulled away, "and I want to make out with you in the moonlight until the cab comes."

Really he just wanted to get her out of the honky-tonk and away from the gaze of black cowboy hat man, but he knew she liked romantic professions, especially when she was drunk.

"Awwwww! How sweet!" Tami took her cowgirl hat off her head and put it on his. Then she covered her mouth with her hands and bent forward giggling.

He plucked the hat off himself and led her outside and called the cab. They kissed sloppily against the side of the building until the cab came, but Tami kept having to break their kisses to giggle. On the ride home she turned to him, kissed his cheek, put a hand on the front of his jeans, and squeezed. He jerked her hand away and looked abashedly toward the driver.

She tried it again.

"Stop!" he hissed, pinning her hand down on his knee. "We're in public."

"Spoilsport," she muttered and then giggled.

Later, when Eric guided Tami through the front door of their house and down the hallway, Dale was sitting in the arm chair, reading. He glanced up from his book and smirked as they passed.

Tami turned back and asked, loudly, "Did you know your brother was a spoilsport, Dale?"

Eric ushered her to their bedroom. She fell backwards on the bed, arms outstretched, and laughed. He unzipped her cowgirl boots, one long, quick tug for each, and yanked them off.

"Why are you doing that so fast?" she asked. "Do it slow and sexy like you usually do."

"Tami, you need to sleep, babe."

"You don't want to fool around?"

"I do. I just don't want you to pass out halfway through."

"Spoilsport."

He got her situated under the covers, and she rolled on her side. "The room is moving," she said.

"I'm not surprised."

He leaned down and kissed her cheek. "I'm gonna leave a glass of water by the bed. And a bottle of aspirin."


	29. Letting Go

**Chapter Twenty-nine**

After Eric left the water and aspirin by the bedside, he returned to the living room, handed Dale a pint of one of his craft beers, and slumped down on the couch with a tall glass of water in his own hand.

"No bull riding tonight, huh?" Dale asked him.

Eric shot him a warning look. "Tami drank a bit too much," he said.

"No kidding. I never would have guessed from the way she was nibbling on your ear. Or _trying_ to."

Eric smiled. Dale's good humor was too infectious to resist. "She's about to pass out. I guess it's my turn to slam drawers in the morning."

"Doesn't she have to work tomorrow?"

"I suspect she'll be calling in sick."

Dale slipped a bookmark in his book and closed it. He took a sip of the beer. "This is good. I thought you were a Bud Light man."

"I'm a man of refined taste, Dale."

"I know. I've seen your wife."

Eric smiled and wagged a warning finger at him. "Watch it. I almost got into a fight with a guy tonight. And he was bigger than you."

"Do tell."

"He was commenting on Tami's ass."

Dale chuckled and sipped his beer.

"What are you reading?" Eric wanted to connect with his brother and manage to do it sober.

Dale turned the book outward. It had a French title. "It's about French-Arabic conflicts."

"Ah." Eric said. He didn't know a thing about that. So he asked, "What made you want to major in French anyway?"

"A girl," Dale answered.

"Did you get the girl?"

"It was Cindy."

"Oh." Eric bit his bottom lip and wished he hadn't asked.

"But Cindy switched to being an English major," Dale said, "and I stuck with French. It clicked with me. I don't know why. Maybe because I did that semester in Paris."

Paris. Eric had never even been outside of Texas, except for his college games. He and Dale were so different. How had they sprung from the same loins? "You talk to Dad recently?" Eric asked.

"I don't talk to Dad. You do?"

"Three or four times a year, on the phone. He came for Christmas last year. He made some snide comment about me not making it to the NFL again. Twelve years later. Twelve years!"

"You've got to get that toxicity out of your life, brother. That's what I did. _Years_ ago. Just rid yourself of him."

"He's family," Eric said. "He's our father."

"Well, when he's too feeble to wipe his own ass, I'll _pay_ someone to do it for him. That's as far as my sense of obligation for that man extends."

"Did he really not come to a single one of your high school baseball games?"

"Of course not. It wasn't football. You made him proud though."

"For a while," Eric said. "Until my stats fell in college. But eventually I realized there's only one person I should care about making proud."

"Yourself."

"Nah, I meant Tami, but she's my other half, you know…one flesh….so I guess you _could_ say myself."

Dale looked a little pained, and Eric didn't know what he'd said to make him feel that way. "You're a lucky man, Eric. Always were. Wasn't that your nickname in high school? Lucky?"

Mo had given him that name after he'd made a surprise touchdown his freshman year during his second JV game, after which he'd been put directly on varsity. Eric had hated the nickname. "I've worked for what I've got."

"For Tami?"

"Yeah. For her too. What we share together…it didn't just fall in my lap."

"You think that's what happened, huh? I didn't work hard enough for Cindy?"

"I never said that! I don't know anything about that. But a good relationship is never just luck. I _do_ know that."

"You don't think," Dale asked, "that what you and Tami have is at least 50% pure chemistry?"

"Yeah, maybe," Eric admitted. "Maybe so. But there's that other 50%. It would fall apart without that."

Dale set his book on the coffee table and sipped the pint of beer Eric had given him. "Do you think there's anything Mom could have done to make their marriage work?"

"Maybe. Maybe not," Eric replied. "But there's _plenty_ Dad could have done."

"Well we agree on that, then. I never knew how you felt about that. I always got the impression you were disappointed with Mom."

"I was," Eric admitted. "Adultery is adultery. I understand _why_ she did it, but I still don't think she _should_ have. She should have told him. Told him what she wanted, and told him she was going to walk away if she didn't get it. Given him a chance, at least. "

"You think he would have done a damn thing with that chance?"

"I don't know, Dale. But it would have been fair to give him one. He didn't have the best upbringing. You know grandpa beat him something awful. Dad at least never did that. He never raised a hand to any of us."

"Sure," Dale said, "he just beat us down with his words. Th nice thing about a physical bruise is that it fades."

"So do the emotional ones, especially when you've got someone to – " Eric stopped. Someone like Tami to encourage you, he was thinking. "Does Cleo build you up?"

"She's never knocked me down."

"That's not quite what I asked."

"I feel good when I'm with her." Dale took another sip. "But I was torn down for so many years, I'm not sure I would even know the difference between someone who really admired me and someone who just didn't dislike me. If I'm not being criticized, I just assume I'm doing an acceptable job."

"Mom tried," Eric said. "She always tried to encourage us."

"Yeah, she tried. But it was too much against a force like Dad. And she wasn't around much. She had to work a lot, first to pay the debts and then to feed that secret college fund of hers." Dale laughed. "I guess Dad had no idea what she was making or what they owed."

"She did manage the finances," Eric said.

"I'm surprised Dad let her. I guess he saw it as a domestic chore."

"Or maybe he actually respected her ability," Eric suggested. "She got them out of debt."

Dale laughed. "Dad? Respect Mom? You know where I learned how to respect a woman? From Uncle Joey." That was their mother's brother. He'd lived in Midland for several years, but he and his wife had moved when Eric was seven and Dale was seventeen. "Where did you learn?"

Eric scratched his cheek. "Coach Rayburn."

"But not from Dad. I hate that man."

"Don't do that," Eric said. "Don't make that mistake. Let it go. I did. I knew so many kids with no dad at all. He was at least there."

"It would have been better if he wasn't."

"You don't really believe that," Eric said. "Can you imagine Mom, struggling to raise us alone?"

"Well, you did what he wanted. So he didn't have to tear you down unless you were messing up a play. He had to tear me down every chance he got. You don't even know what you're asking me to let go."

Eric set his now empty water glass on the end table. "A'right, so tell me."

"I graduated valedictorian of my high school class, and when I walked off that stage, Dad said, 'While you were wasting time caring about a couple tenths of a GPA point, your brother was winning the MVP Pee Wee award.'"

"What?"

"My junior year of college, I made first chair, violin, in the orchestra. He called me a sissy for playing, and he never came to a concert, and he said, 'Your brother is only ten and he's more a man than you are.'"

"Jesus! _What_? He said that?"

"I graduated a semester early, cum laude, from the number one state school in Texas, after borrowing and working my way through, and he said, 'Too bad you couldn't get a football scholarship like your brother will.' I got a federal law enforcement job straight out of college making almost as much money as he made after years on the force, and he said, 'Eric's gonna make a half a million at his first job in the NFL. You can't even outperform your little brother.'"

"I had no idea he said that kind of stuff." That wasn't entirely true. Eric had heard their father make occasional comparisons to their mother, but he'd never laid it all out in his mind like Dale was doing now. He'd never considered the enormity of it.

"Don't sound surprised. He was always telling me how you were making up for the fact that I was such a failure. I was so jealous of you, Eric. You had Dad's favor. You were the star of that high school football team. You didn't have to work for your grades. If you got a C-, they made it a B-. You could have any girl you wanted. As for me, there was nothing I could do that was worth anything to our father. And when I was in high school, I couldn't get a girlfriend. Nothing was ever handed to me. I'm ashamed to say it, but when you didn't make the NFL, I was glad."

"Dale, I had no idea you ever felt like that."

"Part of it was jealousy. I wanted the best for you, I did, but I also didn't want to be in the shadow of my own little brother. But part of it was that I loved you, and I was afraid what the NFL might do to you, that kind of attention and fame. I saw what a much smaller scale fame did to you in high school, and I didn't like it."

Eric might have bristled, if not for an earlier conversation with his wife. "Tami said I was an arrogant jerk, at least until sometime during my junior year. I didn't think I was that bad."

"It wasn't that you were that bad. It was that you weren't yourself. You were such a sweet kid in elementary school. So big hearted. It was just your nature. You'd see a kid playing alone on the playground, and you'd leave the popular group you were with, and you'd go play with him."

Dale was always the one taking Eric to the playground when he was little. It was never Dad. It was always Dale. No wonder Dale couldn't get a girlfriend in high school, Eric thought, with a five, six, seven, and then eight-year-old brother constantly in tow.

"You'd see a kid who signed up for Pee Wee for the first time who couldn't throw to save his life," Dale continued. For four years, Dale had been the one to take him to Pee Wee practices too. When Dad got home from work, he grilled Eric about the plays, but he couldn't come to his practices. Even when Dale was in college, that first year, he drove home for Eric's Saturday Pee Wee games. He must have missed out on a lot of college parties, now that Eric thought about it. "And then, when the other kids made fun of him, you'd shut them up. You'd walk up to that new kid and give him some pointers. But come about 7th or 8th grade….you just…you let it go to your head."

"I'm not that arrogant teenager anymore," Eric said.

"I know. And I know it's no thanks to me."

"Actually, Dale, I do owe you a little bit of the thanks. You weren't home often when I was in high school, but when you were, you said some things that I eventually took to heart."

"I guess we both turned out all right, despite Dad." Dale took another sip. Only a rim of suds remained in the bottom of his pint now. "This was good beer. Thank you. I need to call Cleo and then get some sleep." He stood up. "I do love you, little brother. I wasn't just saying that last night because I was drunk."

"I wasn't either." Eric stood and extended his hand. Dale clasped it, and Eric drew him into a hug. He slapped Dale's back twice before releasing him. He felt like he should hold him there a little longer, that he should say something more, but he didn't know what it was that he should say. So he just said, "Good night."


	30. Starting Fires

**Chapter Thirty**

Tami cancelled her first appointment of the morning, but she managed to get herself to the rest. When she came home from work, Dale volunteered to make them dinner, so she got to relax. He'd also bought a bottle of champagne to celebrate the fact that he'd put in a contract on the condo he liked in Dallas, but Tami, after her escapades the previous night, declined to drink any.

The four of them played a card game that evening, and then Dale turned in at nine, as he had to catch an early flight back to Egypt.

"I like your brother," Tami told Eric while he was brushing his teeth before bed and she was taking off her makeup. "I'm glad he's coming back into your life."

Eric rinsed his toothbrush. "Well don't like him _too_ much."

Tami chuckled. "He does make a fantastic baba ghanoush," she teased. "And he has good taste in wine. And nice eyes."

"Hey, you don't hear me talking about your sister's eyes."

"What color _are_ Shelley's eyes?"

He put his toothbrush back in the cup. "Same as yours."

"Not even close, Eric."

He rubbed his eyes as if he had a headache and walked out of the bathroom.

**[FNL]**

Tami came to bed wearing yet another one of his shirts as a night shirt, a white, button-down one this time. He liked how the tail branched out at the bottom to reveal a hint of her black panties. "That can't be comfortable to sleep in," he said.

"It's not, but I figure you'll be taking it off later, and I know how you like to undo buttons."

He rolled toward her and gripped the top button.

She swatted his hand away. "I said _later_. I want to talk for a while."

She doubled up her pillows and sat back against the headboard. He sighed and did the same. They held hands loosely in the space between them.

"That was weird," she said, "running into Kimberley last night."

Eric did not want to talk about Kimberley. He saw the potential for a fight if he said the wrong thing, and if they fought, he was not going to get to undo those buttons. Maybe if he kept his responses to a single word, he'd scrape by. "Yeah."

"She seems to be doing well for herself, doesn't she?"

"Uh-huh."

"Marine biologist. That's impressive."

"Mhm."

"And she looked good. Didn't she look good?"

He refused to answer that one at all.

Fortunately, Tami continued, "I was afraid she might start coming on to you, but she didn't. I don't know why I thought she would. She was never that kind of girl in high school. You know, those girls who are always trying to steal other girl's boyfriends. I hated those girls. Didn't you?"

He'd probably been stolen by one or two of those girls himself. He hadn't cheated, but he'd broken up and moved on. "Mmmhm."

"Maybe that's why me and Kimberley got along."

_Kimberley and I_, he thought. He couldn't help it. He'd been forced to teach English in East Podunk when one of the English teachers quit mid-year. But he didn't correct Tami. Grammar corrections were not going to undo any of those buttons.

"We were never in competition with each other," she continued. "I was never afraid she was going to come after Mo. Of course why would she when she had you? But Mo was just as popular as you. He was just as good looking."

"What? No he wasn't."

"Sure he was. And he had that Mustang. Girls loved that Mustang. _I_ loved that Mustang. It was so red and shiny. You didn't even have a car until your senior year, did you? That's when you bought that old, beat up pick-up."

"I didn't _need_ a car. Girls gave me rides anytime I wanted one."

"You rode your bike to work."

"That's because the DQ was only two miles from my house. Look, I didn't have a rich daddy like Mo, just hand me keys to a new car on my sixteenth birthday."

"Kimberley looks better with the black hair, don't you think?"

He made an ambiguous grunt.

"Did you have a thing for me even while you were still dating her?"

What was the right answer to that question? If he said no, that might be a slight to Tami. If he said yes, he was the kind of guy who lusted after another girl when he was in a steady relationship. This was a no-win situation. So he deflected. "Did you have a thing for me while you were still dating Mo?"

"No. I liked you as a friend, but I was too wrapped up in Mo to think of you in any other way. But you asked me out pretty quickly after I broke up with him. Did you have a thing for me while you were still with her?"

Damn. She was not going to stop asking this question, was she? "Uh…Maybe?"

"You don't know?"

"It came on kind of gradually."

"Did you love Kimberly?"

Oh hell. What was he supposed to say to that? If he said yes, would that make Tami jealous? If he said no, would Tami think he'd just been using Kimberley for sex until someone better came along?

"Eric, did you?"

"I…uh…." He dug a hand in his hair and sighed. "Tami, I didn't even know what love was back then. I did care about her, though. I wanted to make it work with her. But when she moved…it was kind of out of sight, out of mind. When you and I were long distance, you were _always_ on my mind."

She titled her head. Aw hell. She was getting ready to ask another question, wasn't she? "Thank you for taking care of me last night, sugar. I like knowing I can depend on you when we go out, so I can just have fun."

He smiled with relief. "Sure thing. I'm glad you had a good time."

"But why did you drag me out like that? Was I really embarrassing myself? I didn't think I was."

He reached out to stroke a strand of her hair. He trailed his fingers down its length until they were resting an inch from a button. He badly wanted to undo that button.

"_Was_ I am embarrassing myself?"

He turned his gaze away from the buttons and leaned back against the headboard. "Nah. But I was about to get in a fight with some guy if I didn't leave."

"What?"

He told her about black cowboy hat man.

She laughed. "The ridiculous fantasies men have," she said. "A _threesome_. Really? That guy thought he could have one with me and Kimberley? As if girls are just falling all over themselves to offer men threesomes. I mean, you were one hot quarterback, and even you never got that offer."

Eric was silent.

"Right?" she asked. "Eric?"

He swallowed. Maybe he should just lie and agree that he'd never had that offer, but it was probably too late. He'd paused too long before responding. She knew.

"Who offered?"

"Just some girls at a party," he confessed. "My first semester of college." He'd been to two parties in September, and then avoided them because Tami was in Midland. But he'd made a third attempt in November, at the urging of his football buddies. "I didn't take them up on it of course."

"So they just came up to you and said, _You want a threesome_?"

One had actually come up to him from behind, while he stood outside by the keg, and put her hands over his eyes. The other had simultaneously come at him from in front and put her hand directly on his crotch. The one in back had whispered, "Want to party with us upstairs?"

"Pretty much," he told Tami. "I left. I left the party right when that happened."

"Is that why you wanted phone sex every Saturday night?"

"No! I missed you. And I didn't go to the parties every Saturday night. I hardly ever went. And don't tell me you didn't have guys coming onto you at Midland Community."

"Just one of my professors."

"_What_?"

She laughed. "He was young. He was twenty-four. He just had a Master's. They could teach there with master's degrees. And I didn't take him up on the offer." She kissed his cheek. "I called you instead. Even though it was a Thursday."

Eric remembered that call, because they only talked on the weekends. Rates were cheaper on weekend evenings, and they didn't have a lot of money for long distance calls back then. He also remembered it because she'd started talking dirty to him the moment he picked up the phone, which wasn't like her. Usually he had to start that, gradually, after all the "how was your week" and "I miss you" and "I love you" stuff.

"Damn, Tami," he said, peering at her with narrowed eyes, "is _that_ why you were talking to me about bending you over the teacher's desk that Thursday night? Because you were hot for your _professor_?"

"I was _not_ thinking of my professor. I was thinking of _you_."

"I didn't have a teacher's desk. I was a freshman in college."

"I was just imagining us alone in a classroom."

"Like hell you were!"

"Oh, don't tell me you didn't do the same thing, Eric. _Tami,_ _you're in a maroon cheerleading outfit, and we're under the bleachers…_Those are A&amp;M colors. And I was never a cheerleader!"

He sighed.

"That was a really difficult semester," Tami said. "For _both_ of us. And I think it was a testament to your love for me that you stayed faithful with all that temptation. I admit I worried about it. Not because I didn't believe you to be honorable, but because…." She shook her head. "That's just an awful lot of temptation for an eighteen year old guy who's horny all the time and has no outlet."

"I'd of been a damn fool to risk throwing you away for a moment's pleasure. I might have been a dumb jock, but I wasn't that dumb."

"You were never a dumb jock, sweetheart. But you might have hid your intelligence at times." She draped a leg between his and lay her head on his chest. "I really appreciate you getting me to bed last night. It reminds me of why I decided to start dating you."

"What? The kiss under the mistletoe?" What did that have to do with last night?

"What kiss?"

"At the Christmas Eve party. Our senior year." He smiled. "After that fantastic kiss, you just couldn't say no to a date with me."

"I don't remember that."

"You don't remember our first kiss?"

"I do," she said, "but I remember a different one. After our first date. On my doorstep."

"Before that we kissed under the mistletoe at Jimmy Washington's Christmas Eve party. I thought that was why you finally agreed to see me. The very next day you called me and said I could take you on an official date."

"Eric, I was drinking a lot of egg nog at that party. I didn't know it was spiked. Mostly what I remember is you driving me home because I couldn't drive myself. And my mom was working the night shift. And Shelley was spending the night at a friend's. And you got me into my bed, and took off my boots, and tucked me in, and you didn't try _anything_. And if you had tried, I probably would have had sex with you, right then and there. And then I would have regretted it, because it wouldn't have been the right time for us. But I didn't have to regret it, because you were the perfect gentlemen. And that's when I decided it would be okay to date you."

"I never knew that. I never knew you would have had sex with me."

"So you _weren't_ being a gentleman? And now you're thinking you missed an opportunity?"

"No! No. I never would have taken you up on it, not in the state you were in. I've never had sex with a drunk girl. I mean, for our _first_ time together. If we'd _already_ been dating…if we'd _already_ had sex sober…"

Tami raised her head and kissed his cheek. She chuckled. "We've had some good drunk sex over the years."

"Or at least we remembered it that way."

She laughed.

He kissed her. "Sober sex is better, though," he said, and unfastened the button at the tail end of her shirt. "Want to fool around?" he asked as he undid the button above that, parting the fabric to better reveal her panties. "I can be a professor if you want."

She chuckled. "How about a firefighter?"

He slid another button loose, this time the one just above her breasts, to reveal her cleavage. He bent his head and kissed the naked flesh. "I can be a firefighter," he murmured. He unfastened the next lower button and slid his hand inside the shirt to cup a breast. "But first we need to start a fire." He fondled one, and then the other, which elicited a gentle gasp. "You like that, Tami?"

She murmured.

He pressed his lips against the base of her neck, in a particularly vulnerable spot he knew well. At the same time, he pinched her nipple. She whimpered.

Her whimper was the most beautiful sound in the world to him. It gave him a thrill to know he had any sexual power over her, when he was so often the one who was overwhelmed.

He trailed his kisses downward, undid the last fastened button on the way, and parted the shirt so that she was fully exposed.

When his lips reached her navel, he hooked his fingers into both sides of her panties and drew them down slowly. He slid them off her ankles, and tossed them to the ground. Then he resumed kissing her, this time just above her belly button. "I'm on fire, Eric."

He raised his eyes to see her biting down on her bottom lip. "What do you need, Tami?" he teased.

She let her legs fall open. "You know."

"You've got to show me where the fire is, babe."

She put the palm of her hand on his forehead and pushed him downward.

"Put it out," she ordered.


	31. And Don't You Forget It

**Chapter 31**

The Owls didn't make it to the State Championships, but they came closer than expected. Coach Arnold said he would keep Eric on as QB coach next season, at the advice of the departing head coach and the boosters, but Eric didn't relish having the man as his boss, and he'd left the contract sitting, unsigned, on his desk at work. He had until February to put his name on the dotted line.

Two weeks before Christmas, the Dillon High principal discovered his wife's affair with the JV coach and had the man fired, and Eric forwarded his resume to Buddy to pass on. Four days before Christmas, he spoke with the Panthers head coach and the principal on the phone. He didn't mention the calls to Tami, because she had previously said there was no point in discussing the position until he heard something definitive, but he did mention them to Dale when he went to see his brother's new condo in Dallas.

"You've got to follow the job," Dale said as he led Eric on a tour of his place, starting with the kitchen. "I know how that is. You want to see my guns?"

Eric laughed. "Is that what you ask the ladies when you invite them up?"

"I don't invite any ladies up here. Cleo wouldn't like it."

"When she's coming?" Eric asked as he followed his brother to a small laundry room where a tall, heavy, black gun safe stood next to the washing machine. "Tami's anxious to meet her."

"She flies in Christmas morning. I take her in for the personal interview the next day, but my friend tells me she's as good as hired. She scored off the charts on the translation test and blew them away on the phone interview." He opened the safe by clicking a series of buttons and turning a wheel. "After New Year's, she'll have to go back to Egypt. She'll probably move here in April." He handed Eric a large, black rifle.

"Is this an AR-15?" Eric asked.

"Yep. Check out that new scope I put on it."

Eric looked through the scope. He didn't know what he was supposed to be admiring about it. "Looks great," he said, and lowered the rifle. Dale took it from him, put it in the safe, and pulled out a handgun. "This would be a good size for Tami. Limited recoil, too. I know you're thinking about having her take that class so she can get her CHL, since she works in that part of town."

"Yeah, but she didn't seem like she wanted to do that." Eric checked the magazine and chamber to make sure the handgun was unloaded and then looked down the sights and dry fired it.

"Good grip for her," Dale said. "Go ahead and take it home. Let her take a look at it."

"Uh…yeah….I better talk to her before I bring a gun in the house."

"You really don't have _any_ guns in the house?"

"Nah."

Dale laughed. "Some Texan you are. Didn't Dad give you a hunting rifle when you turned 16?"

"I sold it to pay Julie's hospital bill when she was born. Just never got around to replacing it."

"Well I know what you're getting for Christmas then." Dale took the handgun from Eric.

"I'll have to discuss that with Tami first."

"Do you still dress yourself?" Dale asked with a smirk.

"Yes," Eric shot back, "but I don't have to _un_dress myself anymore."

Dale chuckled. He reached into the safe and pulled out a shotgun. After that he showed Eric a rifle that looked very much like the one Eric had once owned.

"Dad gave me this for my birthday when you were six," Dale said. "He took me shooting, and I took to it like a fish to water. And I thought, finally, something I can do to impress Dad. Problem was, he never took me again after that one time. He asked Uncle Joey to take me instead. Said Uncle Joey had more time." He put the rifle back and pulled out a third rifle, showed it off to his brother, and returned it to the safe. Next he pulled out a handgun. Then another. And another.

"What does Cleo think of all these guns?"

"I didn't have them in Egypt. I could only have my issued piece there, and then only when I was in certain places. My guns have been in storage for years. But I'm pretty sure she wouldn't mind any more than Tami minds all your white boards and playbooks and game tape."

"Tools of the trade," Eric agreed. "Now if I could just convince her that season passes to the Cowboys are a necessary work expense."

Dale laughed. He walked out of the laundry room, and Eric followed. "I'll show you the bedroom."

Dale's bedroom was a suite, bigger than Eric and Tami's, and he had a neatly made Queen-size bed. It was big for one person, Eric thought, as big as the bed he shared with Tami. There were solid, dark wood bookcases lining the walls, and lots of unpacked boxes scattered around them, labeled _books_. "I thought my tax dollars paid for movers to unpack everything for you."

"They did," Dale said. "But no one touches my books. I've got to arrange those myself."

"I hear you. I wouldn't let anyone unpack my game tape."

Against the wall directly across from the bed was a massive television. It had to be over twice the size of Eric's TV, and it was flat. "Dale, you have a giant plasma TV in your bedroom." He looked to the left and right. "And massive speakers." He looked in the far corner of the room. "And an awesome stereo."

"See, it's probably good Cleo refused to move in with me after all. She'd think all this was tacky."

Eric thought _refused_ was an interesting word choice. From what little he'd overheard of Dale's end of that phone conversation, he'd gotten the impression that Cleo just didn't want to live together out of wedlock. Tami hadn't wanted to either. She hadn't wanted to offend her mother, but the monetary savings had convinced her. Eric's off-campus college apartment was paid for by his scholarship. It cost her nothing to live with him.

"Think Tami would let you have all this?" Dale asked.

"I wouldn't have the money for all this."

"Well, when you have no family and you make over six figures for years …" Dale shrugged. "There are some advantages to being single. Every night I get to go to sleep across from that TV."

"Well, every night I get to go to sleep next to my beautiful wife." Eric felt bad after he'd said it, but only a little. He got the feeling it was Dale, and not Cleo, who was dragging his feet when it came to marriage. Dale probably _could_ be sleeping every night next to a wife, if he was willing to take a risk instead of constantly guarding himself from pain.

Dale looked slightly peeved, but he only said, "Want to see my jukebox?"

"You have a jukebox?"

Dale led him to the living room, which had a leather couch and love seat and another smaller TV. A violin sat on the couch, leaned against the arm, and the bow was on the glass-topped coffee table. Dale nodded to the corner of the room, and Eric followed his gaze.

"Damn," he said, "you really _do_ have a jukebox in your living room." Then Eric glanced in the other corner and beheld the Elvis-themed pinball machine. "And a pinball machine? Dale, you have a _pinball machine_ in your _living room_! Did you know that?"

"I'll get us a couple of beers."

**[FNL]**

Tami called to see when Eric was getting home. He should have been home ten minutes ago. They were supposed to string popcorn and watch _A Christmas Story_.

Dale answered Eric's phone. "Hey, Tami."

"Could I speak to my husband, please?"

"He's kind of busy right now."

"Busy with what?" She could hear clanging and bells and pinging in the background. "What's that noise?"

"Oh yeah!" she heard Eric yell in the background. "That's a bonus!"

"Dale? What's going on? Can I talk to my husband, please?"

"Tami, he's really busy."

"Dale, Eric was supposed to be home ten minutes ago."

"Um…he meant to go home. He really, sincerely, truly intended to, but something important came up."

"What came up?" Tami asked. "What _is_ that noise?"

"Hell yeah!" Dale shouted. "You're about to break my record! Go, baby brother! Go!"

Tami sighed. "Dale, could you please just send him on home as soon as y'all are done with whatever it is you're doing?"

"Sure thing. Except…uh…I'm not sure he should drive right now."

"Good Lord. Well, would you drive him home then?"

"I'm not sure I should drive either," Dale said. "Christmas break starts tomorrow, though, right? He doesn't have to be to work. He can just stay here tonight and come home in the morning."

"Fine. But tell him if he's not home by 8 AM, he's in trouble. He may be off, but I have to go to work tomorrow. I only get three days for Christmas."

**[FNL]**

Tami glared at Eric as he came in the door. His hair was ruffled, and he was unshaven, and he looked like he hadn't slept much. She had her briefcase and was heading out.

"Sweetheart," she said, "I'm glad you've been reconnecting with your brother, and I do like him, but _don't_ make this sort of thing a habit."

"Tami," he said solemnly, "I won't. I swear. But he had a pinball machine at his condo."

"Is that what that sound was?"

Eric nodded.

"Did you beat his record?"

Eric nodded again.

"Good for you, sugar." She stepped toward the still open door.

"Tami," he said. She turned back. "Thank you for not being angry."

"Oh, I'm angry."

"Thank you for not being _more_ angry. Thank you for loving me the way you do. You're the best wife a man could ever ask for."

She walked out the door, turned, and seized the knob. Just before jerking the door shut, she said, "And don't you forget it."

**[FNL]**

The oven beeped to announce that it was preheated, and Tami bent over to slide the Christmas ham inside. As she was doing so, Eric startled her with a light squeeze of her behind.

She yelped, stood, closed the oven door, and said, "I almost burned myself."

"Sorry. But you were putting it out there, weren't you?"

She smacked him with the pot holder she'd used to slide in the ham. He grabbed it and pulled her in for a kiss. She was just sliding one hand into his back pocket when the doorbell rang.

"Probably Dale and Cleo," Eric said after he pulled away.

"What do we call her? His girlfriend?" Tami asked as she trailed Eric out of the kitchen. "Isn't she forty? That's a bit old for a girlfriend, isn't it?"

"What do you call Shelley's parade of boyfriends, if not boyfriends?"

"Well, half of them _are_ practically boys," Tami muttered.

When Eric and Tami answered the door, Dale handed Tami a bottle of wine. He reached back and gently urged his girlfriend farther inside the house. "This is Cleopatra Miriam," he said.

She wasn't as exotic as Tami had imagined she would be. She was attractive, but not an exceptional beauty. She was lightly tanned, with dark hair, and she stood a good six inches shorter than Dale. She was curvy without being fat, and buxom without calling too much attention to the fact. Her modest but colorful dress fell to her ankles. The most remarkable thing about her was her dark eyes, which twinkled and shined as if they were smiling.

"Cleo," the woman said. "Dale just likes to use my full name because I never get to say more than one syllable when I'm scolding him."

"That's one of the advantages of not being given a middle name," Dale said. "And I never use your full name to scold you, mon chou. I like to say it because it's beautiful, like you."

Tami smiled. "I only had one year of high school French, so I'm not sure, but did he just call you his cabbage?'

Cleo chuckled. "It's like saying honey."

"Well I'm very pleased to meet you, Cleo," Tami said. She took the woman's arm and began leading her from the door. "Come to the kitchen with me. I have to get to know you. Dale says you speak _four_ languages fluently?"

"Five, actually."

Their voices died away as they headed down the hall.


	32. A Couple of Gallant Knights

**Chapter 32**

Eric went outside with Dale to help him bring in the presents. Julie was playing kickball in the street with a few of the neighbor kids. It was sweatshirt weather but would likely get colder later. "

"Car coming!" Dale hollered.

The kids scattered from the street to the curb as a car rolled slowly down the street.

"Your grandma and Aunt Shelley are here," Eric told Julie. "Didn't you see them pull up?"

Julie shook her head, waved goodbye to her friends, and ran inside.

"What happened to the Charger?" Eric asked when he saw the silver Chevy Tahoe.

"The Charger's my work car. Technically, I'm not supposed to drive it when I'm off duty. I bought this a couple days ago." Dale popped the hatch to reveal a large assortment of wrapped gifts. He pulled out a big box addressed to Julie.

"What's in that?"

"A new bike. Julie's chain kept falling off when I was visiting, and her tire kept getting deflated. I thought she could use a new one. But it didn't come assembled, and I didn't have a chance to put it together like I planned. We'll have to do it after dinner."

"That's gonna be fun," Eric said dryly.

Next Dale pulled out a long, wrapped box addressed to Eric, two tall, slender bags for Tami, and five more gifts for Julie.

"You go a little crazy with the shopping?" Eric asked.

"I haven't spent a Christmas with family in…what? Four years?"

"We were in Odessa…so…five."

Later, as they settled the gifts near the tree, Eric told Dale, "Dad's not coming. He decided he wants to spend Christmas with his…uh…."

"Lady lover?" Dale asked.

"Yeah." Their father had started dating shortly after their mother left him. He had a steady income in a midsize town, and that, combined with his good looks, had made him quite the prize among divorced and single women in their 40s, and, now, Eric supposed, in their 50s.

"I can't say I'm not glad he isn't coming," Eric admitted.

"Then why do you keep inviting him?"

Eric shrugged. "Family is family. You only get one father."

"That's not true. I had two other fathers. Uncle Joey and Mr. Erickson. My high school orchestra teacher."

"The one who leant you the violin when Dad wouldn't pay for one?"

Dale nodded.

"I guess I had two other fathers, too, when I think about it. Coach Rayburn. And you."

Dale looked uneasy. "Me?"

"Until you went to college, who was taking care of me most of the time? Dad taught me about football. But who taught me about…everything else?"

"Is that what it felt like, when I left home?" Dale looked down at the carpet. "Like you were being abandoned by your father?"

Eric gritted his teeth and swallowed. "A little bit. Yeah."

Dale looked up, caught Eric's eyes briefly, and then looked away at the tree. He cleared his throat. "Well, I'm glad we're both grown up so we can just be brothers now. I could use a brother."

"So could I."

**[FNL]**

Cleo insisted on helping Tami set the dining room table. While they arranged the china and folded napkins, they talked about Egyptian culture, about Texas, and about Dale and Eric. Tami found the woman to be articulate and quietly humorous and made a note to compliment Dale on his good taste.

"Tell me how you and Dale got together," Tami asked her as she led Cleo back into the kitchen and invited her to sit down at that more intimate table.

"I was already working for the D.E.A. when Dale was assigned to the Cairo office," Cleo told her. "For a year, I'd been doing mostly written translation, paperwork, transcription of wire taps, that sort of thing. But Dale asked me to go out into the community with him. He actually wanted to talk to people outside of the American enclave, get to know them, build connections…but he didn't speak Arabic, and not everyone speaks French or English. So I helped. We spent a lot of time together that way. We ended up going out for coffee every morning before we started our work day. First it was twenty minutes in the morning, then thirty, then forty…eventually it was an hour and a half of coffee and conversation. We talked about work at first, but then so much more. I talked about my late husband, and he talked about some woman he hand planned to marry."

"Cindy?"

"Yes. And we talked about books, and languages, and music, and so many other things. I loved interacting with a man who seemed to respect my intellect and stimulate it. And at first, that's all I thought it was."

"And then?" Tami asked with a smile.

"Then he suggested I learn to shoot and volunteered to teach me. I had never held a gun before. It's not as easy to own a gun in Egypt as it is here." Her eyes smiled. "He always had to reposition my hands. Insisted he had to stand behind me and put his arms around me to help teach me to aim better."

Tami chuckled.

"And from there…." Cleo sighed. "I didn't intend to fall in love with your brother-in-law. But it happened. I knew it was a risk to see him romantically, that my family wouldn't approve of him, but it was thrilling, and I kept doing it. Then one of my brothers figured it out. He scolded me, and threatened Dale, but he otherwise left us alone."

Tami shook her head.

"My family is old-fashioned, and a bit patriarchal, but they aren't bad people. They love me, even if they're uncomfortable with my….modernization. It was a stretch for my father when I wanted to go to Cairo University. But I met my husband there – he was a young professor at the time – and he introduced me to a different world, a more international world."

"How long were you married?"

"Fifteen years. He died five years ago, in a…." She seemed to be searching for the right word. "There was an attack by a group of militant Muslims on our neighborhood. Ostensibly, it was vengeance for a woman who had left her husband, converted, and joined the Coptic Orthodox church in our community, but there were deeper political issues there. In the turmoil, my husband was murdered."

"My God."

"I grieved horribly for a year. And then I decided I was going to live my life, do something useful. That's when I took the job with the D.E.A. Many of these militant groups, like the one that murdered my husband, are sustained by the drug trade."

Tami shook her head slowly. "I…." She didn't know what to say to any of that.

"Let's talk about something more cheerful," Cleo said. "Tell me about your work at the Women's Center."

Tami was gathering her thoughts and trying to reply when Dale walked into the kitchen. "Eric sent me for refreshments."

"There's beer in the fridge," Tami told him.

Dale kissed the top of Cleo's head. "I hope you're having a good time, ma biche."

"I was just telling your sister-in-law how you used to teach me to shoot," Cleo said. "Always insisting you had to reposition my hands."

Dale smiled at her. "Well you were very undisciplined in your grip, mon ange."

"You have a dozen terms of French endearment for me, don't you?" Cleo asked.

"Yes, mon bébé," Dale said as he grabbed two beers from the fridge.

**[FNL]**

Dale had just handed Eric the beer when the doorbell rang. The brothers set their beers down on the coffee table and walked together to the door.

"Eric, Errrrrrrriiiiiiic!" sang Shelley as she came inside and hugged him. She let go and let her mother step forward.

"Hey, Patty, good to see you," Eric said, and hugged his mother-in-law briefly.

Tami's mother was looking elegantly beautiful in a long, dark green dress, her naturally red hair styled in loose waves, her blue-green eyes twinkling just a little.

"This is my brother, Dale," Eric said. "You remember him?"

"How could I forget Dale?" she said. She pointed to her cheek and turned it in Dale's direction.

Dale smiled and leaned in and kissed it.

"What a handsome man your brother is, Eric." Tami's mom said. "Isn't he Shelley?"

Shelley looked him up and down. "He'll do." She turned to Eric. "I have some exciting news for you. You're going to love this."

"Am I?" Eric asked doubtfully.

"Well I love the news," Patty said. "I'll have my house to myself again." Shelley had moved in with her mother in Midland a year and a half ago when she'd lost her boyfriend and her job.

"Yep. I'm mooooving!" Shelley said, waving her hands over her head in a victory dance. "I got the job! I'm moving to Dallas. In mid-January. I'll be just forty minutes from y'all!"

There was a squeal from the kitchen as Tami, who must have overheard this, came out and hugged her sister.

Soon, all of the women had disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Dale and Eric the run of the living room, where a football game played on the television next to the twinkling Christmas tree. They plopped down onto the couch. On the coffee table in front of them a spread of finger foods rested. Eric popped a Russian tea cookie into his mouth.

Dale jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. "And that's who Julie wanted to fix me up with."

Eric coughed, pounded his chest, and swallowed the cookie down. "My mother-in-law?"

"No. Your sister-in-law."

"Oh." Eric wasn't sure which was worse. "Julie loves her Aunt Shelley. But she's kind of a….little bit of a…"

"Ditz?"

Eric held his thumb and index finger slightly apart. "And she's young for you. I don't know what Julie was thinking."

"Yeah. Your mother in-law is closer in age to me."

"Don't go there. "

Dale laughed. He glanced back toward the kitchen. "Come on. Admit it. Your mother-in-law is a fine looking woman for fifty-one."

"Stop!"

Dale laughed. "I'm just kidding you. I think my preferred age range is 38 to 42."

"Well lucky for you Cleo just so happens to fall into that. She seems….nice."

"You talked to her for five seconds."

Eric plucked up a chip. "I'm just being polite." He popped it into his mouth.

"As if I needed your approval anyway." Dale leaned forward, grabbed a carrot, and dipped in some French Onion dip. "She's pretty, isn't she?"

"I thought you didn't need my approval."

Dale shrugged. "Just curious what you think."

"Sure. She has nice eyes."

Dale took a crunchy bite of the carrot, chewed, and swallowed. "You don't sound too convinced."

"Fine. Nice tits. Do you like that better?"

Dale shoved him against his shoulder. Eric laughed and sat straight again.

"She does, though," Dale said. "But don't let Tami hear you say that, brother. She thinks you're a gallant knight."

"I _am_ a gallant knight," Eric insisted as he reached for another Russian tea cookie. "I can't help it if my brother is a corrupting influence on me." He popped the cookie in his mouth and then licked the powder off his fingers.

"Is Tami's mom still a religious nut? She seemed pretty normal when she came in. "

"She mellowed years ago," Eric told him. "I mean, she goes to church, but she doesn't beat anyone with the Bible anymore."

"Went from hellion to religious nut to classy beauty, huh?" Dale teased him.

"Stop talking about my mother-in-law like she wasn't my mother-in-law."

Dale's laugh was a light rumble. "Is she seeing anyone?"

"Stop it!"

"No seriously. I'm just curious."

"Tami says she likes being independent."

Dale glanced toward the kitchen. "Maybe I should go in there. Make sure Cleo's comfortable."

Eric followed his gaze. "Don't go in there. They'll ask you to help. Trust me. Just lay low out here."


	33. An Opportunity

**Chapter 33**

After dinner, Tami urged the family to gather in the living room for the exchange of presents. Eric surprised Tami and Julie with a DVD player, which sent Julie flying across the room to hug him. "We're still keeping the VCR," he insisted. "For my game tape." He got Tami a heart-shaped pendant necklace, and she rewarded him with a kiss.

Julie tore through her presents from her Uncle Dale with glee. In addition to the bike, he'd gotten her a book, a CD, a DVD, an Egyptian board game made from wood, and an Egyptian silk scarf. Dale gave Tami two bottles of fine wine.

When Eric unwrapped his present from his brother, a hunting rifle, Tami said, "Next time, sugar, before you bring a gun into the house, would you at least _discuss_ it with me first?"

"I didn't bring it," Eric said. "Dale did."

"Dale, we don't even have a gun safe," Tami told him.

"It comes with a padlock for the case. And I know you don't want to keep a gun in the house, Tami, without making sure you're both properly trained in safe use, so I've also paid your tuition for a weekend-long gun class. It's in mid-January. It'll cover both handguns and rifles, and, if you _want_, you have the option of getting your concealed handgun licenses at the end. You're welcome to borrow any of my guns for the class."

"Did Eric put you up to this?"

"It was entirely my idea," Dale insisted. "I know how you love to learn new things."

"I'll take the class," Tami said, and turned and leveled her eyes at Eric, "but I'm not promising I'll start carrying a gun to work."

"A'ight," he said. "Taking a class together could be fun, though, right?"

"It might actually be," Tami admitted. They didn't spend a lot of time doing those sorts of things together. They were busy with family life and jobs, and when they went out together, it was usually for dinner or football or the movies. "But then you have to take a dance class with me in the spring."

"I'm taking belly dancing classes," Shelley announced.

"Really?" Cleo asked. "Beledi, Sha'abi, Al Jeel, Sharqi, Saidi, what style?"

"Uh….the kind where you shake your hips and breasts a lot," Shelley said.

"Oh Good Lord," Patty Hayes groaned.

Cleo's expression was hard to read. Tami wasn't sure if she was offended or trying not to laugh. She was forcing her lips in a tight line. "There are many different kinds of belly dancing in Egypt," she said. "It can be an art form. Or not."

Dale smiled at her. "Cleo dances beautifully."

"Do you have a really good sequence bra?" Shelley asked. "Mine is dark green and all glittery."

"I don't expose my midriff in public," Cleo told her. "I just wear an evening gown when I go dancing."

Eric coughed and looked like he wanted to sink into the floor where he was sitting.

"Eric, you missed the card," Dale told him. "That's important. Read that."

Eric opened it and a plastic card fell out. "What's this?"

"A key card to the suite," Dale asked.

"You got him a hotel room?" Shelley asked.

"No," Dale said. "I got a suite at Texas Stadium. I thought it would help me network to be able to invite some important people to the games, so when I retire and go into private security in four years, I'll have those connections."

"You can retire in four years?" Shelley asked. "How _old_ are you?"

"I can retire with 25 years of service. I'll only be 47."

"A suite?" Eric asked, grinning. "Right at the stadium? Overlooking the field? A suite suite?"

"If I have to watch the Cowboys play football," Dale said, "It seems to me the best way to do it is with climate control and my brother."

Eric laughed. "Thank you. I….I…I just got you a book."

Dale shrugged. "I see it as a networking business expense anyway. There will be other people there besides you. I get a bunch of tickets and VIP parking passes. I'll just hold aside one for you whenever you can come."

Tami laughed at Dale's words - _whenever you can come_. Eric would be going to every game, she was sure. This was just one more incentive for them to stay in the DFW area, and that was fine by her. With both of their siblings in the area, and Coach Arnold assuring Eric his contract would be renewed, Tami was certain the idea of a move to Dillon would be slid to the back burner.

Shelley urged Tami to open the present she'd gotten her. When Tami had done so, only to draw out a skimpy black teddy, their mother cried, "Oh Good Lord!", Eric colored, Shelley laughed, and Cleo turned her face to the side.

"I thought Eric could use some help," Shelley said. "He's so grumpy all the time."

Tami shook her head and shoved the present back in the box and buried it beneath the tissue paper. "I swear, Shell. You'd think you were thirteen instead of thirty."

"Technically, I'm still twenty-nine for another two months."

Shelley got Julie a blouse and skirt that caused the girl to squeal in delight but caused Eric to say, "No. No way. No how. No ma'am. That skirt is too short."

"Oh, Eric," Shelley complained. "Always such a party pooper."

"He's right, Shelley," their mother told her. "That's not appropriate for a woman let alone a girl."

"Thanks for the support, Patty," Eric said.

Tami's mother took a sip of her hot cider. Tami wondered if maybe she should inform her that it was spiked. Patty Hayes rarely drank. "You're a good father, Eric. Didn't I tell you he'd be a good father, Tami?"

"Uh…" Tami didn't answer. Her mother had actually questioned her decision to date _'that football-obsessed playboy.'_ Patty had grown fond of Eric over the years, however, and there'd been quite a bit of revisionist history in her mind.

"I knew I could count on Eric to be sensible," Patty said. "And I got Julie several more appropriate outfits." Patty motioned to the gifts she'd left beneath the tree. Julie thanked her grandmother after each one, but none elicited squeals.

When paper was being collected in a large trash bag, Julie asked, "Uncle Dale, didn't you and Cleo get each other anything?"

"I celebrate Christmas January 7th," Cleo told her.

"Why would you do that?" Shelley asked.

"My family is Coptic Orthodox. We have a different calendar."

"As far as I'm concerned," Dale said, looking at Cleo affectionately, "my gift is having you here with me for Christmas."

When Tami slipped away to the kitchen to do the dishes, Cleo followed her and offered to help. "I'm so sorry," Tami said as she washed and Cleo dried the china. "That was embarrassing, Shelley giving me that lingerie in front of everyone. And all of that belly dancing stuff. We're not all like that in Texas, I assure you. You're going to like it here."

"Perhaps. If I get the job."

"Dale said he's certain you'll get it. The interview is just a formality at this point."

"I guess I should say if I decide to take the job and move here."

Tami handed her another plate. "You might not?"

"I've often thought of coming to America." Cleo ran the towel around the plate. "I've never felt like I fit well even in my own family. I'm too…modern. But I also love Egypt. It's my home, after all. Most of my family is there, and I fear I may prove too old-fashioned for America. And…" She paused. "I have a personal opportunity in Cairo."

Tami turned off the water. She sensed Cleo wanted to open up to her. Several plates remained stacked in the sink, but they could wait. "What kind of personal opportunity? Should I pour us some wine? We could sit and talk." After she'd asked, it occurred to her that she hadn't seen Cleo drinking anything but water at dinner. "Do your people drink alcohol?" _Oh Good Lord_, Tami thought. Had she really just said _your people_? "I didn't mean to say it like that. I didn't mean for it to sound like that. We're not…in Texas we're not all – "

Cleo laughed. " - You're not all so friendly and welcoming? Only the Taylors are so hospitable?"

Tami smiled with relief.

"I'll have a little wine," Cleo said. "Half a glass."

They settled into two chairs at the kitchen table. "What kind of personal opportunity?" Tami repeated.

"There's a gentleman who goes to my church. He owns his own grocery."

Tami wondered what kind of grocery job would top working for an international law firm.

"He asked to court me."

Tami blinked. "What about Dale?" Dale, as far as Tami could tell, seemed to think Cleo's following him to America was a done deal. "Haven't you two been dating for three years? Don't you love him?"

"I do love him. But I don't think he's interested in the kind of commitment Ahmad is interested in. At the end of a courtship…there's a proposal. Dale isn't courting me. He's just _dating_ me. For a while I hoped he'd come around and propose. My brother told me I was being a fool, that American men aren't like that, that they'll take the milk if….it's an expression."

Tami nodded. "It's an expression here in Texas too."

Cleo sighed. "And now he wants me to take this job, _not_ marry him, and keep doing what we were doing in Egypt. I have nothing waiting for me here in Texas except this job and Dale. And if Dale's not ever going to commit..." She shrugged. "I have a job in Egypt. Family. And a man who wants to court me."

"Do you love this other man?"

"I respect him," she said.

"But do you love him?"

"In time, perhaps I could. He's moral. Kind. He owns his own business, so I know he's competent. He's handsome. He was friends with my husband before he died."

Tami sipped her wine and shook her head.

"The whole idea sounds completely absurd to you," Cleo said.

"It's just not our culture," Tami said. "But, no, it doesn't sound _completely_ absurd to me. I suppose there are worse things to base a marriage on than respect."

Tami wondered what would have happened if Kimberley had not moved to Oklahoma, if Eric would have just kept dating her and eventually married her. Would their marriage have lasted? Tami thought it might have. Eric had respected her. He was loyal. Tami couldn't imagine it could possibly have been the kind of rich, fulfilling marriage that she and Eric shared, but it might have been…good enough.

"Plenty of people marry for love and later divorce," Cleo said. "Simply because one of them is not committed to making it work."

Tami had seen that often enough. "True. But what makes you think that if Dale got married, he wouldn't be committed to making it work?"

Cleo laughed. "How can you make a marriage work when you're not even willing to enter one?"

"But are you sure he's unwilling? Are you sure he doesn't just want to be sure?" Tami suspected that the painful end to Dale's nine-year relationship with Cindy had made him gun shy.

"We're both over forty. We've dated for three years. If he's not sure yet, when is he going to be?"

Tami sipped her wine again because she couldn't think what to say. She'd almost finished her full glass. Cleo had enjoyed only two small sips of hers. Finally, Tami spoke. "Have you talked to Dale about all this?"

"I haven't told him about Ahmad's willingness to court me yet. But I've mentioned marriage more than once. He changes the subject every time. As long as we were together in Egypt, I was just too happy _being_ with him to stop. He's clever. Witty. Charming. Fun to be around. He makes me feel beautiful even when I'm at my ugliest. We have great conversations. And…_other things_…are good too. But now he's asking me to move across the world in exchange for…" She made a scoffing sound. "The opportunity to date him."

Why was she telling Tami all this? Why not Dale? "Well, obviously you need to talk to _him_ about this."

"I've tried to talk to him about marriage. I told you. He changes the subject."

"Don't _let_ him change the subject. Are you afraid that if you push the subject, he'll walk away?" Tami asked. "Is that why you're considering walking away _first_?"

Cleo drained the remainder of her glass in a single sip. "Maybe just one more half glass."

Tami got up to pour her some more. Why was Cleo telling her all this? Tami prided herself in being a good counselor and in getting people to open up, but she didn't think she was _that_ good. They'd just met _today_. Was Cleo telling her this because she hoped Tami would reassure her by telling her that Dale was in love with her? Eric seemed to think he was, but it was true Dale wasn't precisely acting like he was ready for more than a girlfriend.

Tami was just setting down the glass of wine when Dale walked in the kitchen. "Is my family corrupting you, mon trésor? An entire glass?" He smiled teasingly and tsked.

She replied to him in French, and he in turn answered her in French. They had a conversation Tami could not understand more than two or three words of.

"Cleo's not feeling well, Tami," Dale said when the conversation ended. "She can feel one of her migraines coming on. I'm going to take her back to her hotel so she can rest. Then I'll come back and help Eric put together Julie's bike." He held out his hand to Cleo, "Ma belle." She took his hand and stood and thanked Tami for her hospitality.


	34. Sisterly Advice

**Chapter 34**

Tami didn't have a chance to talk to Eric about her conversation with Cleo, not with her mother and sister around, and with Eric struggling to set up the DVD player for Julie so she could watch the movie Dale had given her.

"Oh, let me do that!" Patty insisted when Eric began muttering and turning one of the cables this way and that. She had the DVD player connected in seconds.

"I didn't know you were so technological," Eric said.

"I live alone," Patty answered. She glanced at Shelley. "Well, I did for a long time. And I will again soon." She turned to Tami. "Where is that hot cider? Is it on the stove? That stuff is good."

Tami figured it was time to tell her mother the truth. "You know, Mom, that cider has – " but before she could finish, her mom was in the kitchen dishing herself a cup.

"Don't tell her it's spiked," Shelley said. "She's more pleasant tonight than she's been in months."

Eric gave Shelley a look that said, _I'd be unpleasant too if I had to live with you for months._

When Dale returned to the house, Tami noticed he seemed slightly uneasy but not unhappy, so she assumed Cleo had not yet told him about her "opportunity." Tami thought perhaps Cleo was embarrassed by her own candor and upset at the thought of giving up Dale, and that the migraine was an excuse to leave so that she could deal with those emotions.

Tami wondered if she should tell Dale what Cleo had told her. She felt it was only fair that he have a chance to act before Cleo returned to Egypt, but she also knew it was not her place to reveal that information, and that it should come from Cleo. Tami felt torn between the role of sister and counselor.

**[FNL]**

Dale and Eric cursed their way through the assembly of Julie's bike while _A Christmas Story_ played on the new DVD player, Tami and Julie cuddled on the couch, Shelley texted some guy on her cell phone, and Patty sipped another cup of cider.

Once the bike was finished, Julie asked to ride it.

"Just for a little bit," Eric said. "Stay near the house and on the sidewalk and under the streetlights. It's dark."

Eric then invited Dale out to the back porch to enjoy a glass of egg nog. When they'd lit the fire pit and settled into the deck chairs, Eric asked, "Does Cleo often get migraines?"

"Not often. Twice a month, maybe. She has to lie down in a quiet, dark room. I offered to stay with her, but she told me she just wanted to rest and that I should enjoy my family."

"We didn't chase her away, did we?"

"Not at all. I think she had a good time. She seemed to enjoy herself. She told me she quite likes Tami. And she thinks you're almost as handsome and charming as me."

Eric chuckled. "And Shelley?"

"She didn't mention Shelley." Dale stretched his legs out on the porch. "Honestly, though, Cleo's been acting strangely."

"How so?" Eric asked.

"I don't know. She wanted to stay in a hotel tonight for one. I understand that she didn't want to draw attention to our relationship in Egypt by staying overnight. And I accept that she wants her own place when she finally moves here, but I thought she'd at least stay with me for the few nights she's going to be here over Christmas vacation. It's not like we haven't been…. " He sighed and shook his head. "Anyway, she's been a little bit distant ever since I took this position in Dallas. And she hasn't seemed as enthusiastic about the law firm job as I thought she would be."

"Well, Dale, it seems to me that when you ask a woman to move across – "

He paused as the glass door slid open. Tami stepped out. "Nobody ask me about my panties," she said.

Dale chuckled. "We're only on our first glass of egg nog," he insisted. "And I don't think you put much rum in this."

"I didn't put any rum in it," Tami said. She put her hands on Eric's shoulders and squeezed. "Honey, can you go make sure there are extra pillows in the guest bedroom for my mother? I forgot she needs three. And get some blankets out for Shelley to use later. She'll sleep on the couch. And get some fresh towels."

"You want me to do all that?"

"I believe in you, sweetheart. I believe you're fully capable."

"A'ight. I don't mind." Eric stood. "You just usually do that kind of stuff."

Dale started to stand also, but Tami put a hand on his shoulder and urged him back down. "We need to chat."

Eric looked at his wife curiously but left her to her conversation with his brother.

**[FNL]**

Tami sat down in Eric's vacated chair and warmed her hands by the fire pit. "So when are you going to propose to Cleo?" she asked.

"What?" Dale said.

"She's smart and she's classy and she's cute. If you don't hurry up and propose, I think I'm going to."

Dale chuckled. "Eric might not approve."

Tami pulled up her legs into the chair and turned to face him better. "Cleo and I had a long chat after we did the dishes. And maybe it's because I'm a counselor, but…she opened up to me."

"About?"

"She's a grown woman, Dale. She had a fifteen-year marriage before she lost her husband, and I don't think she's interested in being some man's girlfriend for much longer. She told me there was a man back in Egypt who asked to _court_ her."

"What? Who?"

"I don't know," Tami said. "That's not the point."

"It's absolutely the point! Who is he? Ahmad?"

"I don't know his name," Tami said. "That's not the – "

" - That crafty bastard. I knew it. I saw the way he looked at her when we went into his grocery that one time. " He shook his head. "Cleo didn't mention this at all."

"Probably because she's trying to decide whether or not to take this job and follow you to the U.S., or stay in Egypt and let this man _court_ her. This whole courting thing…sounds like it has more of a deliberate goal than dating."

"But she _wants_ to be in America, Tami. She wants more equality and freedom and safety. She's told me that often enough that I got the impression she was hoping I would serve as her ticket to America one day. Well I got her that ticket. I've lined up a job."

"Dale, maybe she repeatedly told you she wants to be in America so that you would know she was _willing_ to follow you here _if_ she got a proposal. Maybe it's not America she wants. Maybe it's _you_."

"Ahmad?"

"I don't remember the name."

Dale set his glass down on the porch. He stood up and poked the fire in the pit with the iron, violently. "Ahmad?"

"Dale, I probably shouldn't have told you this. I probably should have waited for her to do it. But I'm just trying to be a good sister here. Do you love her?"

"Ahmad! What could she possibly see in him? He's a handsome guy I guess, and he makes an honest living, but he's not nearly her intellectual equal, and she's a little old-fashioned, sure, but not _nearly_ as much as the rest of her family. I can guarantee you she's not going to like the chauvinistic expectations he's going to have of her. " He stuck the iron back in the holder. The flames were leaping higher now.

"Dale, you've got to decide if you want her more than you want your bachelorhood."

He turned to face Tami. "It has nothing to do with my bachelorhood. I don't give a damn about my bachelorhood! I just don't want to throw myself all in – all the way in – and then get…spit out. If she's willing to consider giving up this job opportunity, to consider staying in Egypt and letting _Ahmad_ court her, well, then, I guess she probably doesn't love me."

"So first she doesn't love you because she's wants to come to America. Then she doesn't love you because she wants to stay in Egypt?" Tami sighed. "I know you had a nine-year relationship that ended in a broken engagement, and I can see how that would leave you with some scars that – "

" - Are you psychoanalyzing me? Is that what you're doing here, Tami?"

"I'm trying to help you."

"Fine. Go ahead. Psychoanalyze me. Tell me my issues. Oedipus complex for starters, right?"

"Well, you do have issues with your father, and Eric said you always defended your mother against him."

"I haven't actually murdered him, though, or inadvertently married her."

Tami chuckled. Then she grew serious. "Your father wasn't around for you, not emotionally. Then you spent nine years with a woman who left you. I think you have abandonment issues, Dale."

"Sure. But that's kind of like saying that a guy who's been struck by lightening prefers to stay inside when it's storming. What's not sensible about that?"

"It's not sensible when it's not actually storming. It's not sensible when you think _every_ raindrop means a storm. It's not sensible when you never go outside."

"I go outside," Dale said. "I've dated women. I dated a woman in New York for _four_ years."

"Four years. And it never went beyond dating? Why was that?"

"That was her choice, Tami. She was married to her career."

"Did you maybe date her _because_ she was married to her career? Because that put you at less risk of – "

"- and I've dated Cleo for three years. I lined up a job opportunity for her. So she can be near me."

"Yes, you did. You've got a woman who cares about you enough to cross cultural boundaries to be with you. Her family wasn't happy about you dating her. She took that risk for you. And she's considering leaving her own country to follow you to America. You don't think that's a big deal?"

"She would want to be here regardless of me, Tami. She doesn't really fit there in Egypt."

"She doesn't really fit here either. She's stuck between two worlds. And all she's got in this one is you. Coming here is a risk, Dale. Following you here is a risk. And maybe she doesn't want to gamble on a small payout. You can't toy with a woman like her for much longer and expect her to stick around."

"I'm not _toying_ with her! I haven't been with anyone else since we started dating. There's not even anyone else I'd rather be with! I've never enjoyed being with someone more."

"Do you even hear what you just said?" Tami asked.

"What?"

"There's no one else you'd rather be with."

"Fine! I love her. I love her! Are you happy now?"

"I'm perfectly happy, Dale," Tami said. "What I'm wondering is whether or not you're going to let yourself be happy."

**[FNL]**

"Those are the prettiest towels we have, Shelley," Eric said, patting the towels he'd set on the end table by the couch. "You're just going to have to endure."

"Geez, Eric," Shelley said, rolling her eyes and putting her feet up on the coffee table. "I was just _asking_."

Patty Hayes was asleep in the armchair. Julie was still outside riding her new bicycle. As Eric was about to respond to Shelley, Dale flew into the living room. "I have to go," he said. "Where are the coats?"

"What?" Eric asked. "Is something wrong?"

"I need my coat. Right now."

"A'ight." Eric led him to the hall closet and Dale jerked his coat off the hanger. He didn't put it on. He just dug his car keys out of his pocket and opened the front door.

"Dale," Eric said. "Is something wrong? What – "

Dale ignored him and walked rapidly across the lawn to the curb where his vehicle was parked.

Eric watched him peel off. He shut the front door, walked back to the living room, and saw Tami on the couch next to her sister. "What the hell did you say to him out there?"


	35. Sex and Psychoanalysis

**A/N: **_Please continue reviewing. It would be nice to know more than a couple of people are reading any given chapter. For those who keep asking for more smut, you'll get a little in this chapter, and probably a bit more in a future chapter, but I like to intersperse that throughout the course of a plot, dialogue, and character development and not just have long, detailed chapters of such scenes. Enjoy._

**Chapter 35**

Tami lay on her back in bed, her arms crossed behind her head. The blue, radiant numbers of the alarm clock gave off a dim glow. The miniature Christmas tree that sat atop Eric's dresser twinkled intermittently, casting white light for sixty seconds, and then sending the room into bluish-blackness for five seconds before casting its light again.

"I shouldn't have told Dale what Cleo told me," Tami said. "That wasn't very counselor-like of me, to interfere like that. Cleo should have been having that conversation with him. I'm ashamed of myself."

Eric rolled on his side and draped an arm across her. "I would have told him," he said. "And, hell, she probably _wanted_ you to tell him."

"What do you mean?"

"That way she could issue him an ultimatum by proxy."

Tami considered the suggestion. "But why wouldn't she want to do it herself?"

"Not everyone is as direct as you in relationships, Tami. Some people are afraid of rejection. If you told Dale, she could just wait and see how he reacted."

"You may be right," Tami said. She rolled to her side and rested a hand on his hip. Eric's face was dotted with a pattern of blue and white light. "You have surprisingly good psychological insight for a jock."

"It helps in my line of work. Got to read the offense. Got to read the defense. Got to figure out how to get 19 to get along with 32." He winked. "It helped me in high school with the girls too."

She snorted. "Is that how you got me to date you? Psychological manipulation?"

"Let's just say I read the defense, found my opening, and took it."

As the Christmas lights twinkled out, she kissed him in the near darkness. When they twinkled back on, he was returning her kiss more deeply, a hand lodged in her thick hair. He tugged her head back to force her mouth open and plunged his tongue inside. When their tongues had tangled for a moment, she pulled slightly away. "You looking for your opening now, Coach?"

He rolled her from her side onto to her back and slid atop her. Against her thigh, and through his boxers, she could feel his growing erection. He put his lips against her ear and breathed, "I think I know exactly where my opening is."

After they'd teased and kissed and petted and undressed one another, and they'd made playful love, Tami rested her head on his naked shoulder and wrapped one of her legs between his.

"Merry Christmas," she said.

He let one hand settle on the small of her back and the other on her upper arm. "Best present of the night."

After a few minutes of silent cuddling, she sensed he was beginning to doze off, so she tickled his ribs, and he squirmed. "What?" he grunted.

"What do you think Dale will do?" she asked. "He sure left in a hurry. Think he went to propose? Or to fight with her?"

"I think he hopped a plane to Cairo to go beat the crap out of the grocer."

Tami chuckled. "Your brother has issues, Eric."

"We all have issues."

"And what do you think his are?" Tami wondered if her analysis would match his. "You know him better than I do."

Eric sighed. "This isn't really my line of work, babe."

"You told me it was, in a way. So tell me - what's your read?"

Eric was silent. She thought he wasn't going to answer, but then he said, "Dale doesn't think he deserves to be loved."

So like Eric, Tami thought, to make a succinct analysis, to boil down the issue to just a few words. But she needed more words. "And why do you think that is?"

"My mother was preoccupied with her own worries a lot of the time. She worked long hours. My father told him he was a failure his entire life. Then the first woman he ever loved, a woman he believed in for nine years, cheated on him and told him she never loved him."

"_Never_ loved him?" Tami asked with disbelief. That was a detail she'd never been told.

"Yeah. That's what she said. That she didn't think she'd _ever_ loved him." Eric's muscles tensed. "What a bitch."

Instinctively, Tami cringed. Eric almost never used that word, and so it fell from his lips with an especially powerful quality. "She couldn't have been," Tami insisted, "not really, not if he loved her for so long."

"Then why would she say something so cruel?"

"I don't know," Tami said. "Sometimes people just don't think when they break up. They speak in the midst of the moment. When I dumped Mo, I said some hurtful things to him that weren't true."

"Such as?"

"I don't think you want me to talk about that, Eric."

"Well, damn, Tami! Now I'm curious. Tell me."

"Just…things, Eric."

"Such as?"

"I said he wasn't good in bed. That was a lie. He was."

"Yeah. I definitely didn't want to know that." Eric rubbed his eyes with the hand that had been on her arm. "But you were mad at Mo. Cindy….she was the one cheating."

"She was probably confused. She fell in love with someone else and wanted to make an excuse to herself as to how she could have done that, when she had a man who clearly cared about her and who was faithful. So she convinced herself she never loved him."

"Tami, are you seriously psychoanalyzing a woman you've never met?"

"Oh Good Lord I am, aren't I? How silly of me. Let's psychoanalyze you instead."

"What?"

"Let's talk about how you're so paranoid about my work environment that you got your brother to pay my tuition for a gun class and –"

"- That was his idea, Tami. "

"But you wanted me to take that CHL class."

"Yeah," he admitted. "I did. I do. I'd just feel better about having you work in that neighborhood if you had a gun and you knew how to use it safely. What if your car doesn't start again and some criminal sees that you're stranded and vulnerable, and he….he …"

" - You know what, sugar? Fine. If it'll make you feel better, I'll get the license. I'll pack heat."

He smirked. "Well you're _always_ packing heat." He slid his hand from her back to her ass and squeezed.

She laughed and tried to wiggle his hand away. He stopped squeezing but left his palm flat on one cheek.

"Hey," she said seriously, as a new thought occurred to her. Dale and Eric were brothers. They'd had the same parents. Different upbringings, to be sure, but the same busy mother, the same emotionally distant father. She lifted her head from his shoulder and searched his eyes. "Have you ever doubted my love for you?"

Those hazel eyes looked dark and intense in the mingled blue and white light. "Not since the day you married me," he said. "Not once."

She put a hand on his cheek. The skin was slightly stubly from his five o'clock shadow, but there was a baby smoothness at the edges. She loved the feel of his flesh – warm, masculine, and tender at the same time. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," he said softly. "I have _never_ had to doubt your love, and I am so very grateful for that." His eyes broke their hold on hers as he glanced down. The Christmas lights blinked out. "But I have sometimes doubted my worthiness."

When the lights flicked on again, she leaned in and kissed him gently, briefly. "Funny," she said as their lips parted, "considering you were the football superstar in high school, the A&amp;M quarterback, and at that time I was just open-enrollment, community-college material."

"Tami, you were never _just_ anything. You're…you're everything. _My_ everything, anyway."

Lord, for a jock he could be so incredibly mushy sometimes. And the thing that made her heart swell was that she knew he actually _meant_ it. Sure, sometimes his flattery was a mere seduction, a precursor to an attempt at getting laid, but she knew exactly when he was doing that and when he was fully feeling the words, and this was the latter. "I love you, Eric. So very much."

"I know. I love you too."

They kissed for a while, softly, quietly, without urgency. They settled back into a snuggle position, but he didn't doze off this time. Instead, he stroked her hair languidly. She let her mind wander over the events of the evening.

"I _will_ get that concealed carry license," she promised, "but I want more training than a weekend-long class before I start carrying a gun in my purse. I want to make sure – absolutely sure – that I know what I'm doing."

"A'ight. Well I'm sure Dale will take you to the range as often as you want, teach you some things."

She thought of Cleo's story and lifted her head from his chest to look at him. "You don't mind Dale teaching me?" She smiled teasingly. "Showing me how it's done? Putting his arms around me to show me how to hold the gun and – "

"- I don't think he's going to have to do that. I think he can just _tell_ you if you're doing it right or wrong."

She fake pouted. "You're no fun. Can't you at least _pretend_ to be a little jealous?"

"Why? You like that?"

She smiled.

"You like the jealous type?" Eric asked.

"No. Definitely not the jealous _type_. But as long as you're not actually serious about it, you're kind of cute when you're possessive."

"Yeah?" he rolled onto his side, rolling her off his chest in the process, and kissed her nose. "Mine." He kissed her lips. "Mine."

She giggled.

He rolled her all the way onto her back and nibbled her neck. "Mine."

She was suddenly keenly aware that they were both still naked from their first round of lovemaking.

He bit her shoulder gently. "Mine."

He slid down a little, declared, "_mine_," and flicked her nipple with his tongue.

She gasped.

He moved his mouth to the other breast and repeated the act, this time saying "mine" in a deeper, huskier voice. He lingered on her breast, giving it full attention, until she was completely aroused.

She whimpered when he drew his mouth away. He looked into her eyes, put a finger on her chin and forced her lips open. "Mine," he whispered as he traced the inside of her lips. She closed her mouth over his finger and sucked. He closed his eyes and breathed in.

When he opened his eyes, he slid his finger out of her mouth, traced it down her neck, between her breasts, and over her stomach. With his other hand, he parted her thighs, and kept trailing the finger down until he was touching her intimately.

"This is all mine isn't it?" he asked.

She moved her hips in small circles and murmured.

"Isn't it, Tami?"

She nodded wordlessly and ground against his hand. She reached beneath the sheet and found that he was hard. "Eric," she said. "Come here. Come closer to me."

"Not until you say it."

She closed her eyes and relished the feel of his finger moving in perfect rhythm to her need, but she wanted more. "Eric, _please_._"_

"No. Say it first, Tami. Say you're mine."

She opened her eyes and beheld the intensity in his own.

"I'm yours," she told him. "So take me."

**[FNL]**

When Eric came out of the shower the next morning into the master bedroom, his hair damp and matted to his head, in dark blue jeans and a white t-shirt, Tami was standing naked at the dresser with a drawer open. She'd just rolled out of bed, apparently.

"'Mornin'," he said, in his deepest southern drawl, and saddled up behind her and slipped his arms around her. He kissed her bare shoulder.

She squirmed away. "I'm picking out clothes to get in after my shower. I'm not gearing up for a third round."

He sighed and stepped aside. He glanced at her dresser. She had the underwear drawer open.

"What do you want me to do with that teddy Shelley gave me?" she asked. "You want me to keep it and wear it?"

"God no! I'll be thinking of Shelley."

"Well I sure don't like the idea of that!" Tami exclaimed.

"I didn't mean like _that_. I mean…it would be a turn off."

"You don't think my sister is at all attractive?" she asked skeptically.

"She's pretty, sure. But then she opens her mouth."

Tami looked at the teddy, tags still on it, sitting in the drawer. "That's not something you can donate to the Salvation Army, is it?"

"I don't know," he said. "Don't poor people deserve hot sex too? "

She laughed.

"Re-gift it next year," he said. "Right back to her. Preferably at her office Christmas party. In front of her new boss."

She laughed. "Naughty," she said, and spanked him lightly.

He smiled lecherously and leaned in for a kiss.

She pulled back. "No," she said. "It's not happening this morning. I need my shower, and I need my coffee."

"Hey, I'm not the one standing around naked and spanking people. Don't lecture me."

"Would you go make the coffee, sugar?"

He sighed, nodded, and went over to his own dresser, where he pulled out a flannel, button-down shirt, and slid it on over his t-shirt. His eyes roamed her while he buttoned it up. "You got plans for today?" he asked. She had the day off.

"Just hanging out at home with mom and sister and daughter. We might go shopping later." She grabbed out a pair of underwear and a bra and opened the second drawer. "Why, do you?"

"Thought I might go into my office at school if you don't mind. Get some work done in quiet."

"You mean away from Shelley?" She grabbed out a shirt and some jeans and closed the drawer.

"And I thought I might call Dale around lunchtime, see how…things went. See if he needs to get together and…talk."

"You're a good brother," she told him. She walked over, clothes in her hands, and kissed him.

"Tease," he said.

She slapped him with her folded jeans and left for the bathroom. Over her shoulder she called, "I know you. You liked to be teased."

"Maybe," he called after her, "but I have my limits. You better lock that bathroom door."

It closed, and he heard the click of the lock.


	36. Contracts

**Chapter 36**

The school was empty when Eric went in, except for a single janitor, and only the hall lights were on. He retreated to the silent, uninhabited coach's office and powered up his computer. Before starting on his lesson plans for the next semester, he checked his e-mail. In the "to" column, he saw something with the Dillon ISD address handle and clicked on it anxiously.

Eric skimmed the e-mail, saw "finish out your school year at Oliver Loving", "official start date of July 5", and "deadline of January 15 to review and sign." Attached to the e-mail were two contracts – one for a teaching job and one for the position of JV coach of the Dillon Panthers. Eric printed both.

Given the teacher shortages in the small towns where he'd sometimes worked, he'd been all over the map in his career - Health, P.E., Driver's Ed, Shop, Life Skills, Sociology, U.S. History, Government, even English. At first, he'd taught that English class under protest, but he'd grown to like it by the end of the first year. He'd loved to make his students diagram sentences; he'd enjoyed the visual aspect of it, almost like a playbook for grammar. They'd called him "old school," but then more than one student had come back to thank him the next year, after going off to college.

Dillon was offering him two practice periods _and_ two planning periods, weightlifting, and P.E. He'd never had a contract like that, with no academic classes _at all_. He'd be able to concentrate on football all year long.

He was just about to read the Panthers contract when Dale called and asked if he wanted to get breakfast. Eric suggested his brother bring him something, because he wanted to read the contracts now. Besides, the office was a quiet, private place to talk about Cleo. Dale might not want to have that conversation in a café.

Soon they were wolfing down breakfast burritos over Eric's desk. Not until they were both finished eating, and Eric was leaned back in his chair with a Coke in one hand, did he say anything. "So…where's Cleo?"

"I guess Tami told you. About her offer? From Ahmad?"

Eric nodded.

Dale sighed heavily. "I went over to her hotel last night. We fought."

Eric waited for him to continue.

"She kept it from me. For weeks, she didn't say a word about Ahmad's offer. She kept it from me. Just like Cindy."

"Whoa!" Eric set his Coke down on the desktop. "That's _nothing_ like what Cindy did. Yes, Cleo should have told you, instead of delivering the message through Tami. That's some kind of communication issue y'all will have to work out if you stay together, but she wasn't doing anything with him. He made an offer. That's all."

"Yeah, but …." Dale shook his head. "She's been thinking about it. Because see - " He pointed a finger down at the desk and tapped it. "I knew her saying she loved me, I _knew_ that wasn't true."

"Dale, c'mon now. If she doesn't love you, why did she come all the way here, to America, to meet your family and interview for a job near you?"

"Last night we fought…I yelled at her about Ahmad, and she kicked me out. Said she wasn't going to talk to me until I calmed down."

"Seems fair."

"She asked me not to take her to the interview this morning. She got a cab. She said we could talk afterwards." He glanced at his watch. "I have to leave in fifteen minutes to meet with her." He ran a hand through his hair. There was very little gray in it, and it was thick, like Eric's. "I didn't mean to yell at her…it's just, when Tami told me that, I don't know. I felt like…like my chest was going to explode."

"Sure. Because you love her."

Dale swayed in his seat. He appeared almost physically ill. "I say to her, how can you even think of letting Ahmad court you, and she says, Ahmad is serious. Ahmad doesn't play games."

Eric remained silent.

"I say I don't play games. What games have I played? I've always been direct."

"Well, Dale…She probably means…you know…she hasn't gotten a proposal from you. In three years. Even after you asked her to move across the world for you."

"But I want to know first. I wanted to see if she'd keep dating me even after she was here, if it was me she wanted, or an opportunity to come to America."

"Well, I think that's pretty obvious now, isn't it?" Eric asked.

"Is it?"

"Dale, the main reason she wants to be here is you. Otherwise she's staying in Egypt."

"Yeah, exactly! To let Ahmad court her! And if she's thinking of him, she can't love me!"

Eric rubbed his eyes. "Dale, can I tell you something? She doesn't really want the grocer. The grocer…he's just some other man. I bet you dollars for donuts that even if you two break up, she never marries him."

Dale half shook his head and looked off at the trophy case.

"A'right," Eric muttered. He leaned forward. "Listen up!" He'd never spoken to his brother like that before, in a tone of authority. Why would he? Dale was ten years older. Dale turned his head to meet his eyes. "You've got a choice here," Eric told him. "You either gamble on this woman, throw yourself in whole hog, and ask her to marry you, or you watch her walk away. That's your choice. That's _it_. There is no middle ground here. She isn't going to leave you any middle ground."

Dale looked down at his hand on the desk.

"I know I don't understand what you went through with Cindy. I can't imagine that deep a betrayal. But here's the thing. Maybe you _will_ lose Cleo at some point in the future. And if you do, it'll hurt like hell. But if you don't act, you're going to lose her _today_. And it's still gonna hurt like hell, isn't it?"

Dale kept his eyes fixed on the desk.

"Don't just sit back and watch it happen," Eric told him. "Don't just sit back and watch her walk away."

**[FNL]**

Shelley and Patty started their drive back to Midland after an early dinner. Eric now sat at the dining room table with the last glass of wine from the bottle before him. Shelley had consumed two glasses to Tami and Eric's one. He was checking his cell phone messages to see if Dale had called. Tami sat in a chair next to him. "Can I have some of that last glass?"

He pushed it to her. "You can have it all."

She sipped. "No word from Dale yet?"

He shook his head and put the phone down. "Listen. Dillon e-mailed me over a couple of contracts this morning - for the JV coaching position and a teaching job. They're in my bag. I'll go get them so you can look them over. I have until January 15 to sign."

"What? You're still exploring that possibility?"

"Of course. We talked about this. A couple of months ago."

"I thought you stopped looking into that."

"Why?" he asked. "When did I ever say that? I never said that."

"No, but the Owls are going to renew your contract. And your brother is living in Dallas now. Shelley's moving to Dallas soon too! And Dillon is a _four hour_ drive from DFW! We have family here. Why would we move at this point?"

"Babe," Eric said, "you know the Owls are a dead end for me. I'm never making head coach of this team. But when Jason Street goes from JV to varsity, so will I. Maybe even to head coach."

"Eric! We have family here now. We both have jobs. I'm doing meaningful work. Julie has friends, and she goes to a good school. There are things to do around here. There's nothing in Dillon."

"There's a _job_ in Dillon, Tami. I have no future on this team. I'll never rise above QB coach."

"And so what if you never do?"

Eric wasn't sure he'd heard her right. "What?"

"So what if you never do? You've got a teacher's salary, and you'll keep getting small, steady raises. You've got the QB coaching stipend on top of that. I've got income. We're doing _fine_. We're paying all the bills and saving a little. So what if we just put down roots here? Just put them down, and you keep doing what you're doing."

"Just give up half way? Not pursue my dream of becoming a head coach? Are you serious?"

"I'm tired of moving, Eric. I'm tired of starting over."

"Tami, I can't just settle. Jason could be my ticket. This is an opportunity to advance. This is football we're talking about. This is who I am! You knew that when you married me."

"I did know that," she admitted.

"You've always supported me."

"I have. I have always supported you in reaching for your dream. But maybe I have dreams too. And maybe they don't include starting over from scratch every one to three years."

Eric shook his head. He stood up and shoved in his dining room chair. "I thought your dream was to help me realize my dream. I thought it was _our_ dream. I'm not just doing this for _myself_. I'm doing it for this family. If I'm head coach of a good high school team, maybe one day I could be an assistant college coach. Do you know how much money they make?"

"We don't need that much money, Eric."

He rubbed his eyes. "Tami…I…I…." He dropped his hands. "You really want me to do this? Just stop right here. Just…stop?"

"I think maybe I do."

"I think maybe you're wrong. I think maybe, after a few years of me just treading water in the same place, you're gonna lose respect for me."

"Eric I just want you to _think_ about staying here. I want you to _think_ about it. Maybe you could make head coach of the Owls one day. Maybe you could find another team in Fort Worth or Dallas where you'd have a better opportunity."

"There's no one else courting me, Tami. The Panthers are my _best_ opportunity. I want you to think about it too. I mean really think about it." His phone rang. He flipped it open and checked the screen. Dale. "I mean _think_ about it, Tami!"

He clicked answer and walked out of the dining room, phone to his ear.

Tami downed the rest of her wine. She stood up and strutted to the kitchen, where she flicked on the water and rinsed out the glass. She shoved it in the top rack of the dishwasher and slammed the rack closed. She heard the glass stem shatter.

As she was crouched down cleaning up the shards from the bottom of the dishwasher, Eric came in the kitchen and dropped his contracts on the countertop. She stood and glanced down at the stack of paper.

"Read it over," he said. "The pay is a little bit better, and the cost of living in Dillon is two-thirds what it is here. You wouldn't even have to work."

"I _want_ to work."

"We wouldn't have to move until July."

Tami stared at the contract.

"Just read it over. I'm going to meet Dale."


	37. Tension

**Chapter 37**

Eric slid into a booth across from his brother. He still felt tense from his argument with Tami. Dale had a sixteen ounce strip steak sitting on the table in front of him beside a heaping baked potato. Things must have gone well with Cleo, if he could manage to eat.

"You hungry, little brother?" Dale asked.

"I ate dinner already." Eric ordered a Bud Light when the waiter came by.

"I thought you had better taste in beer than that," Dale said.

"I just get the good stuff sometimes. Tami doesn't like me spending too much money on beer."

Dale made a whip cracking sound as he flicked his wrist.

"That's not funny!" Eric snapped.

Dale held up his hands. "Sorry. I was just joking. You seem really irritated about something."

"Yeah." Eric leaned back into the booth. "I just got an offer for that coaching job I told you about."

"Congratulations."

"But Tami doesn't want me to take it, because it would mean moving to Dillon."

"What's wrong with Dillon?" Dale asked.

"Nothing. Well, it's a four hour drive from here. And it's a small town. Not a lot of…you know, culture. But it's got one huge high school. 5A. And the Panthers have been state champions before. I used to privately coach the kid who's going to be QB on the JV team next season. I could maybe make head coach in two or three years." Eric shook his head. "And Tami just wants to stay here."

"Turns out Cleo just wants to stay in Egypt. Tami was right. All that talk about America…it was because she wanted me to know she was _willing_ to follow me here _if_ we got married. But she'd actually _prefer_ to stay in Egypt."

"So you two finally talked."

Dale nodded and cut into his steak. "Yeah. I thought we should probably talk now so I could avoid the whole romantic movie scene - you know, running through the airport at the last minute in a mad frenzy of love. Especially now that we've got the TSA."

It was funny, but Eric wasn't in the mood to laugh. The waiter clunked his beer mug down on the table, and he pulled it close. "So…what's happening there?"

"I'm still keeping this position," Dale answered. "It'll set me up with better connections for my second career after I retire, and I can't stay in the Cairo foreign office forever anyway. They won't let me. Cleo understands that. She understands how important this position is to me. And now I understand how important it is to her that we get engaged before she agrees to move all the way to Texas." He speared a piece of steak with his fork. "I guess in a way she was just as afraid as I was…I was afraid she didn't feel as strongly about me as I felt about her, and she was afraid of the same thing."

"Communication," Eric said. "It's kind of important in a relationship."

"Duly noted. So that's what we're doing. She's taking the law firm job, moving here, and we're getting married the first Saturday in April."

"Congratulations. That's…_soon_. "

"Yeah, well, she won't move in with me until we're married. It just makes sense for us to do it as soon as she starts work in the area." Dale took a bite of his steak, and, when he was done swallowing, said, "And I'm not a fan of long engagements. It occurs to me that Cindy was not in a big hurry to get married."

Eric had noticed that, even as a teenager, but he hadn't said anything to Dale at the time.

"Cindy thought she should finish law school first," Dale continued. "She made that clear our senior year of college, which was when I was gearing up to propose. So I waited. I put off the proposal. Then, when we finally _did_ get engaged, she said we should save up money for two years for a nice wedding. But Cleo's in a hurry to get married. She _wants_ to be my wife. God only knows why, but she does." He laughed happily. "She really does."

"I'm happy for you, Dale." He was, but he wished he could feel that happiness more at the moment. He was still too worried about his argument with Tami. "Are you getting married in Egypt?"

"No. Most of her family isn't going to like the idea of her marrying me. We'll get married here in Texas. Maybe at one of the botanical gardens. Will you be my best man?"

"I'd be honored."

"Thank you. I want you to stand up for me. I respect your marriage with Tami. That's a great example for me."

"Doesn't seem like the best example at the moment."

Dale shrugged. "You'll work it out."

"Where's Cleo now?"

Dale finished chewing and swallowing. "With our relator. She doesn't like the condo I bought. So, since we _are_ going to be living together after all, I'm going to rent it out and we'll buy some place that she likes better. We'll probably get a house, actually."

Eric imitated his brother's earlier whip cracking sound.

Dale laughed.

With a smirk, Eric asked, "Is Cleo going to make you get rid of the pinball machine?"

"She loves the pinball machine." Dale pointed his fork at him. "She beat your record this afternoon."

"Like hell she did. I'll believe it when I see her initials on the leaderboard."

"Shelley looking for a condo by any chance?" Dale asked. "I know she's moving to Dallas in a few weeks."

"She couldn't possibly afford your place. And I don't think you want to be Shelley's landlord anyway."

"Can't believe I already have to move again within the next four months," Dale complained. "Would have been nice if she'd put her two cents in earlier."

"Well, she didn't have a proposal earlier."

"Point taken." Dale put down his fork. "I love her. I very much want to be with her. But I admit I'm a little nervous about the whole marriage thing. I always wanted to settle down, since I was in college. But it just never happened. And now….I'm forty-three. I haven't even lived with a woman since Cindy, and that was fifteen years ago. I'm pretty set in my ways."

"Well, you're going to have to learn to compromise."

"What sort of compromises have you made for Tami?"

"Well, I…." Eric felt suddenly on the spot. His mind reeled to think of something. He could think of several compromises _Tami_ had made for _him_, but he was having trouble coming up with one he had made for her. "I would have bought a smaller house," he said at last, "if it wasn't so important to her to have that extra bedroom." He smirked. "And I'd have a pinball machine."

"That's it?"

"No, that's not _it_," Eric insisted. "It's….well…it's the everyday stuff. Once you get married, you have to give up your right to make your decisions by yourself. You have to take her opinions and feelings into account."

"Like with your Dillon offer," Dale said.

"Yeah. And with the little things, like how late you can stay out."

Dale chuckled. "Do you have a curfew, Eric?"

"Not an official one. But every half hour past her preferred time reduces my odds of getting laid by fifteen percent. Not that I go out that often anyway. Except for work." He gestured to his brother. "And now with you."

"Well, you're an introvert. Always were."

"I'm not shy," Eric insisted.

"I didn't say you were _shy_," Dale replied. "But unless we're talking about a football crowd, you'd rather just be with your family, or one or two close friends."

Dale wasn't wrong. Eric had never really liked parties or other such social functions. They often bored him. He could talk for a long time with Tami, but he didn't like small talk. Small talk was a slow torture for him. In fact, he'd never really seen the point of going to a party unless it involved one of two things: getting a girl or getting money from the boosters. He hadn't needed a girl for a long time, but he was aware that taking Tami out to social functions increased his chances of getting laid by her. He was also aware that barbecues and parties could help his players to bond and form a tighter team. But if it weren't for some utilitarian goal, or social pressure, or the necessity of not seeming rude, he'd probably never go to a social gathering.

"I'm more like Tami," Dale said. "I love being around people. All sorts of people. How do you two balance that? Is that one of your compromises?"

"I guess it is," Eric said. "I go out more often than I want, and she goes out less often than she wants. When we're out, we stay longer than I want, and we leave sooner than she wants. She can read when I've reached my outer limit. She also goes out by herself a bit. She has her friends and I have…my game tape."

Dale laughed. "I'm looking forward to getting to know you better, brother. Even if you're in Dillon, we'll still be in the same state. We can do holidays. Summer vacation."

"See, you get it. You get that Dillon's not _that_ far from Dallas." Eric sighed. "I wish Tami got it."

**[FNL]**

On the 27th, when Tami got home from work and set her briefcase on the kitchen bar across from where Eric was cooking dinner, he mentioned the contract to her again.

"I told you I'm thinking about it!" she snapped.

"But did you read it?"

"Of course I read it. What's for dinner?"

"My famous chili. Did you notice the Panthers stipend is higher than what the Owls will pay me?"

"I'm going to change out of my work clothes before dinner." She walked down the hall.

**[FNL]**

On the 28th, after Julie had cleared the dinner dishes, Eric said, "It's a good deal, Tami, that contract. Teacher salary is the same as I'd make at Oliver Loving, but I'll have an extra planning period, and no academic classes. Just P.E. and football."

"Well I'm sure that sounds good for _you_." She pulled her wine glass closer. "Have you thought of me? Or Julie?"

"Have you looked online at real estate? Houses are at least twenty percent cheaper. We could get something nicer. Bigger. You'd like that."

"You know what I'd like? Being near my sister."

"Would you really? Because you get kind of annoyed with her when she visits."

"Because she _stays_ with us when she visits," Tami insisted. "When she's living near us, she won't ever have to stay with us. I can see her an hour here, an hour there. She's fun for an hour at a time."

"We can still visit my brother and your sister. It's just four hours! We could take a summer vacation here."

"Or we could just live here," she said. "And you aren't driving four hours each way on weekends from Dillon for the Cowboys games, you know."

"I could for the occasional game."

"During football season? Being gone all weekend? I don't think so, Eric." She picked up her wine glass and studied him over the top. "Season passes, Dale has. And a _suite_. You sure you want to give that up?"

**[FNL]**

By the 30th, Eric was extremely tense. He'd felt like he was walking on egg shells with Tami over the contract, so he hadn't tried for sex since Christmas.

Most of their marriage, Tami had known better than to let him go more than three nights without releasing that stress valve. There'd been longer stretches - during her pregnancy and those torturous weeks after Julie was born - but usually, no matter how busy they were, he could at least count on a quickie by the fourth night.

There had been no quickie last night, and he was pretty sure there wouldn't be one tonight either.

He couldn't even release any stress by shouting on the practice field, since it was winter break, and football season was over anyway. So he called Dale and said, "I want to go shooting this evening. Take me shooting."

"Brother, I have plans with Cleo this evening. She's only here until January 2nd. And I have to work tomorrow. I need to spend time with her."

"Just a couple hours, Dale."

"You know she has to go back to Egypt and I won't see her for almost three months."

"One hour," Eric bargained.

"I love you, brother. I do. But I love her differently. And I need to store up nuts for the winter."

"I really need to blow off steam."

"Go for a jog."

There was a click on Dale's end. Eric hung up the phone and changed into his running clothes.


	38. Chemistry

**A/N**: _Sorry for the double update in one day, but I will be out of town this weekend and not updating for two to three days, so I wanted to go ahead and slap the next chapter up. Please review!_

**Chapter 38**

On New Year's Eve, while Dale worked and Eric took Julie to the movies, Tami took the day off and met Cleo for shopping. She resolved to put the contracts out of her mind. She hadn't been able to discuss the matter seriously with Eric yet. She knew they had to, but she felt like she needed to get some distance and calm down first. He'd made the announcement so suddenly, without having said a word about the position for two months, even though he'd obviously been talking to people about it. Then he seemed simply to expect her to go along. She was angry about that.

Tami had read the contracts, three times. The JV coaching position was, admittedly, an excellent opportunity for Eric. She'd looked at real estate, and houses were indeed much cheaper in Dillon. Tami had even read up on the junior high Julie would likely attend. It had a selection of pre-AP classes, and although it did not look as rigorous as Julie's current school, it wasn't nearly as backwards as Tami had imagined. Still, she didn't want to move. Fort Worth had so much to offer. It was near family, and she could relate to the people here, in a city where there was Texan friendliness and strong community values but also opportunities to stimulate her mind.

"It's gorgeous," Tami said when Cleo came out of the fitting room in a white, sequined gown.

"Yes," Cleo said. "But a little low cut."

Tami took note of Cleo's modesty and recommended another dress from the rack. She emerged from the dressing room wearing that one and told Tami, "I love it. Simple, but elegant. I'm going to order this one."

"But you've only looked at _three_ dresses," Tami insisted. She'd been looking forward to wedding shopping. Shelley didn't seem on track to ever get married, and Tami didn't have any close girlfriends who weren't _already_ married. The idea of going through dozens of options and choosing something glamorous with Cleo had greatly appealed to her. "Take your time, Cleo. Look at them all. You only get married once."

Tami didn't realize the problem with what she'd said until she saw Cleo blink rapidly. "Oh Good Lord. I'm so sorry," Tami apologized. "I wasn't thinking."

Cleo smiled and shook her head. "I take no offense. It was my intention to only marry once. But sometimes life sends a second blessing."

Cleo had been married to her first husband for fifteen years. Tami had only been married to Eric for twelve and a half, and yet she couldn't imagine loving another man, certainly not enough to follow him to another country. But Dale was a good man. "We were so poor when we got married," Tami told her. "Eric had to borrow the money for the engagement ring from Dale. Dale also sent me a check to help with the wedding."

That would have been two years after Dale's engagement ended with Cindy. He'd saved up quite a bit for his own wedding. What had it felt like, Tami wondered, to share a small portion of that with his _brother's_ bride? The envelope had been addressed only to her, and the check had been made out only to her. The card had said, _Congratulations. Make my brother happy._

"I'd only met him _once_ at that point," Tami said.

Cleo smiled. "He's a generous man. It's one of the things I love about him."

"I never told Eric about it," Tami confessed. It would have made him feel ashamed. It had humbled him enough to borrow money from his brother, but to be _given_ it too? When he was expected to have signed a half million dollar contract with the NFL? "I just bought a modest dress, so Eric wouldn't be suspicious of how I could afford it. I put most of the money toward my college loans."

"You hid money from your husband?" Cleo asked.

Tami grimaced. "I'm afraid I did." And to think that a couple of months ago she had gotten mad at him for the same thing. Although, Eric was only her fiancé at that time. "I just didn't want him to feel – "

"- Men and their egos," Cleo said. "I know something about that."

Tami laughed. She looked wistfully at the rack of dresses again.

"Maybe we'll look at just a few more," Cleo said.

Tami lived vicariously through Cleo for the morning, as she selected dresses for her to try on, and Cleo showed them off to her, one by one. In the end, Cleo settled on that third dress after all.

**[FNL]**

"Why are you so grumpy, Dad?" Julie asked.

Eric had just pounded the movie seat down three times, and when it wouldn't fold to his satisfaction, insisted they move. Then he had grouched about the next seat. "I'm not," he insisted, his face set in a grimace. It was December 31st. He had now gone 133 hours without sex.

"Just chill and enjoy the movie."

He sighed. He _should_ just "chill" and enjoy the fact that Julie wanted to go to the movies with him. Ever since she'd started middle school, she'd seemed to think being seen with her father was uncool, and she was always either at Maria's or at some extracurricular school activity. Daddy's little girl was pulling away. He kissed the top of her head, which she tolerated despite the public venue, said, "I love you, Monkey Noodle," and grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bucket she held. "Now what's this movie about again?"

"It's PG-13," Julie said.

That was all Julie cared about, that he had agreed to take her to a PG-13 movie. He'd protested at first, in line, when he'd seen the rating, but then she'd told him, "Uncle Dale already took me to a PG-13 movie last time he was here. But…then…he's totally cool. I understand. We'll just go to the PG one."

Well, Eric was _at least_ as totally cool as his older brother. "We can do the PG-13 one," he'd told her.

As he'd bought the tickets, he'd heard Tami's voice in the back of his mind, saying, _She's playing you, Eric._

He knew that. But sometimes, maybe it was okay if a girl wrapped her daddy around her little finger.

**[FNL]**

"This is so good," Cleo gushed as she dug into her enchiladas. "I've never had Mexican food before."

"Is this your first time leaving Egypt?" Tami asked.

"Oh not at all," Cleo said. "I've just never been to America before. My late husband – " She stopped and smiled. "I guess I'll have to start calling him my _first_ husband. He was a guest lecturer at several universities, so I visited Israel, Greece, France, Italy, and Germany with him. My son goes to university in England, so I visited him there last year."

"I didn't even know you had a son!" Probably Dale had mentioned the fact to Eric, and Eric had never relayed the information. Eric frequently failed to relay information Tami considered newsworthy.

"I have two. They're 18 and 19. The youngest is at Cairo University. I was 20 when I got married. My husband was seven years older, already established. We wanted to start a family right away. Like you and Eric did."

Tami smiled. She thought it better not to mention that she and Eric weren't quite yet married when Julie was conceived. Of course, Cleo couldn't be _too_ conservative. Tami was pretty sure she was having sex with Dale. And maybe her own first child wasn't precisely planned either. The math didn't leave much room. Perhaps Cleo's had been a shotgun wedding.

"Will your sons come to the wedding?" Tami asked her.

"Yes, if they can get passports and visas in time."

"Has Dale met them?"

"He's met my youngest. My oldest went to Oxford before I met Dale, and he hasn't been back to Egypt."

"But you said your oldest was 19? And you met Dale three years ago."

"He went to university early, at 16, like his father. Brilliant boy. Not that I'm bragging. But he is."

Tami laughed. "Will you have any other family at the wedding?"

"One of my cousins. She married an American six years ago, and she lives in California. But most of my family won't approve of the match. They won't like that I'm marrying outside of the Church. I'll be excommunicated."

"Excommunicated!" Tami was raised Baptist and Eric was raised Presbyterian. They'd gotten married at the A&amp;M university chapel by an Episcopal priest, and they now attended a Methodist church. All of this denominational intertwining had seemed rather seamless and non-contradictory to her. "But why?"

"He's not Coptic. I can't marry outside the Church and remain a part of it. And converting would be a huge ordeal for Dale. He's attended several services in Egypt, at my request, the parts non-members are permitted to attend. He's read up on the theology. He's quite familiar with the Church. He's taken the time to think about it, but he doesn't want to join. He thinks it's far too conservative. I don't blame him. I was raised in the Church, and I attended to be a part of my family and my community, but I've always had my own issues with it. I'll miss certain aspects of it, the community, the beauty of the environment, the music…but there are things I won't miss, and I'll have Dale."

It struck Tami just how _very_ much Cleo was giving up for Dale. Suddenly, a move to another town in Texas, just a four-hour drive from her family, didn't seem like quite as big a deal. "You really love him, don't you?"

"I do." Cleo smiled. "I don't even exactly know why. Yes, he's handsome and charming and ambitious, and he makes a good income, and he's intelligent and witty and a good conversationalist and a good lover, but it's not any of that. It's…j_e ne sais quoi__**."**_

"That's how I feel about Eric sometimes," Tami said. "I mean, he's handsome, romantic, reliable, faithful…He's smart, even if he doesn't show his intelligence as obviously as Dale. He's a good father, a good husband, and he's adorably goofy sometimes, with this cheesy sense of humor that makes me groan and laugh at the same time." Tami wasn't feeling so angry with Eric, now that she had begun to list his virtues. "He can be a surprisingly good listener when he wants to be, and he's determined and moral and has this conscience that's just so sexy. And yet, there's something more. There's something more even than _all_ of that. Something that just…."

"…Je ne sais quoi."

Tami smiled. "In America we call it chemistry. It's not something _he_ has. It's something _we_ have together."

"Chemistry," Cleo said. "I like that."


	39. Pleasantly Ambushed

"What did you think of the movie?" Eric asked his daughter as they drove home.

"I think Orlando Bloom is totally cute."

Eric didn't want to know his daughter thought anyone was totally cute, least alone a creepy, grown man. "The pirate with the weird beard and all that mascara?"

"No! That's Johnny Depp! The other guy!"

Eric tried to remember what the other guy looked like. He hadn't been paying close attention to the movie. He'd been thinking about the Panthers contract, about his wife being mad at him, about whether or not Dale was going to expect him to throw a bachelor's party and (if so) how the hell he was going to manage to do that, about his lack of recent sex, and about how good Tami would look wearing that dress that woman was wearing in the movie, that one that really emphasized her…

"Dad, your cell phone is ringing."

Eric answered with one hand while he drove with the other.

"Not safe," Julie said.

"Hey, hon," Tami said. "It's me. I've invited Dale and Cleo over for dinner. They don't have any New Year's Eve plans, and neither do we, so I thought it would be fun to ring in the New Year's together."

Eric was pretty sure Dale already did have a plan, a plan to get laid, but he supposed the women had decided this on their own, and, besides, Tami sounded awful cheerful. "A'right. Sounds good."

"Would you stop and get some brisket and some champagne and some onions and some peppers and some kind of dessert?"

"Sure."

"I love you, sugar."

He smiled. Her mood seemed much improved. And with a little champagne...maybe he'd be back on the gravy train later tonight. "I love you too, babe." He hung up his phone. "We're going grocery shopping."

Julie groaned. "Just drop me off at home first. Please?"

"You used to love grocery shopping with me." He remember those days, plopping her right down in the front of the cart, while she gurgled and pointed and squealed, and then, when she was older, her standing on the back of the cart, like it was a carnival ride, and leaping off to help him whenever he needed something. Saturday morning grocery shopping used to be their thing. What was their thing now?

"I want to call Maria. Please?"

"Fine."

Eric dropped Julie at home. After pulling into the grocery store parking lot, he turned off his pick-up and called his brother's work cell phone. Eric couldn't imagine having a separate work and personal cell phone, but Dale did.

"Taylor," Dale answered with strong annunciation and a tone of authority.

"Uh…hey…got a second?"

Dale's voice grew suddenly casual. "Oh, yeah, sure, Eric, what's up?"

"I guess Tami invited you and Cleo over for dinner. I hope that's a'right with you. I know you wanted…alone time with Cleo."

"I've already been informed we're going. Cleo really likes hanging out with your wife, apparently. Besides, we had plenty of alone time yesterday, and I managed to get tomorrow off from work. Turns out I don't have to work holidays now that I'm the senior guy. Also, she cancelled her hotel room and is staying with me, so I imagine we'll have our own private party tonight when we get back from your house. And maybe one tomorrow morning."

"Well at least _someone_ is getting laid," Eric grumbled.

"Tami still mad at you?"

"What's the longest a woman has ever made you go without sex? I mean, once you were already in a relationship and already having it. You ever go six days?"

"All the time," Dale said. "Janet and I only saw each other on the weekends."

"Who's Janet?" Eric asked.

"The woman I dated in New York."

"Ah."

"You're so spoiled, Eric. Listen to you whine. And didn't you have to go for weeks and weeks after Julie was born?"

"Yeah, but that was a special exception. And I was pretty exhausted." The mention of Julie's birth made Eric realize he knew very little about his brother's family goals. "You and Cleo planning to have kids?"

"Well, she's already got those two almost-grown sons I told you about. The youngest might transfer to SMU, as a foreign exchange student, to be near his mom, and then he might try to stay in the U.S. after he graduates. There's a possibility he could live with us while he finishes school."

"But you two aren't trying for any of your own?" Eric asked.

"Well, we've decided we're not going to _not_ try either. But she's forty. It's not likely to happen."

"That's what Mom and Dad thought, and then I came along."

"Mom was 30 when you were born," Dale reminded him.

"Yeah but I was still a surprise. She called me her miracle baby. She thought she couldn't get pregnant. Ten years between us, and nothing."

"What about you and Tami? You guys planning on more?"

"Us _guys_? You're gonna have to learn to say y'all again, Dale."

"Are y'all planning on more?"

"We're still waiting for our miracle baby. Probably not going happen at this point."

"You never know," Dale said. "Taylors. Shoot blanks for years and then – boom, sudden direct hit. Uncle Tommy was a surprise that way too."

For years, as a boy, Eric had assumed Tommy was his cousin, since he was only a year older than Dale. It took him awhile to understand that Tommy was his father's younger brother. "Yeah. I think we've both kind of given up hope on that one." He sighed. He hadn't thought about a baby in years. They'd been to a fertility clinic when Julie was five, talked over their (costly) options, and then decided to keep letting nature take its course (or not). If that left Julie an only child, so be it. At this point, after twelve years of no birth control and plenty of sex, he was pretty sure another child was not in his future. Maybe _Julie_ was their miracle baby. Hell, they'd even been using condoms when they conceived her. "I gotta go get some groceries."

**[FNL]**

When Eric returned from the grocery store, Julie was biking away from the house. "Where you headed, Monkey Noodle?" he asked.

"Mom's making me run some mixed up mail over to a house almost three miles away!" she complained.

"Well, it's a nice day." And it was, one of those fluky, sunny, 60-degree winter Texas days, though it might drop to 40 tonight.

He went inside the house and unpacked the groceries. As he did so, he thought about how he was going to have to broach the topic of the contract with Tami again. They hadn't _seriously_ discussed it yet.

He put the champagne in the fridge. He closed the door, turned, and was startled to find Tami standing right there. She seized his belt buckle and tugged him into a passionate kiss.

Dazed and confused, he returned her kiss. What had he done right to deserve this? It couldn't just be that he'd picked up the groceries. He'd made dinner the last two nights, after all. Why was she suddenly not mad at him anymore?

While she was kissing him, she undid his belt buckle and unsnapped the top button of his jeans.

Was he having some kind of dream? Had he fallen asleep at the movie, never gone grocery shopping, and was this _all_ a dream?

She yanked down his zipper with a loud rasp and slid her hand inside. Wildly aroused, he moaned against her lips as she fondled him. "Oh, God, Tami, babe…what…..oh God."

Tami pulled her hand out of his pants, took a step back, and said, "We probably have less than fifteen minutes before Julie gets back. See if you can catch me." And then she ran from the kitchen.

He reeled on his feet for a second, then laughed, and then took off running after her. He turned down the hall and chased her into their bedroom, where he caught her near the edge of the bed. Eric picked Tami up and tossed her, happily squealing, onto her back.

He watched with a grin as she rolled onto her stomach and began to crawl away, up the bed. He grabbed her by the ankle and pulled her back, Tami laughing all the time. He flipped her over to face him and lowered himself over her with the support of one arm. With his free hand, he reached beneath her skirt and yanked down her panties.

Eric didn't remember every detail of what happened next. He just knew he was completely undisciplined and that the words he shouted toward the end while he took her did not resembled any real speech pattern: "Tami…. You… …. Oh Sweet… Hell… You… Naughty… Yeah….You….Damn…Sweet…. Dirty…. Tami…. Holy… Goooooood!"

Eric collapsed on top of his wife, still panting.

The front door slammed.

"Oh hell!" Tami said, and pushed against his shoulder until he rolled off of her. She leapt from the bed and ran and shut the bedroom door they hadn't closed. She locked it.

"Mom!" Julie yelled. "I delivered the mail! Can we play that card game now?"

"I'm just going to take a quick shower!" Tami yelled. "I'll be out in a minute!"

Eric was still on his back, his arms outstretched on the bed, breathing heavily, when she came and looked down at him. "Happy New Year, sugar."

He forgot all about the contract.

**[FNL]**

When Eric came out of the bathroom, hair damp from his own shower, Tami and Julie were sitting at the kitchen table and playing cards. He kissed the top of Tami's head and whispered, "Thank you," in her ear.

"Why do you guys sometimes shower during the day?" Julie asked as she put a card in the discard pile.

Tami smiled. "I just like to stay clean."

"Your mother does get dirty sometimes," Eric said with a smirk as he went to the cabinet for a glass.

When Julie had taken a break from the game to go to the bathroom, Eric set his glass of water down on the table next to Tami, bent, kissed her cheek, and thanked her again.

"You're very welcome."

"But…uh….did you….were you satisfied?" He was usually a considerate lover, but he hadn't held out this time. With Julie interrupting them, and Tami locking the bathroom door when she went to shower, he hadn't been able to follow through in some other way either.

"I got exactly what I wanted out of the exchange," she said. "Which was to show you I love and desire you."

"You sure? We could tell Julie we're taking a nap."

She chuckled. "Dale and Cleo will be here soon. I'm fine, hon."

He bent and kissed her a third time. "Thank you," he said again.

"Well I see what I need to do to get some gratitude around here."

"And thank you for doing the laundry yesterday. And thank you for our beautiful daughter. And thank you for helping to get Dale and Cleo together. And thank you for – "

" - You want to play too, Dad?" Julie asked as she returned and sat down. His miracle baby picked up her hand of cards.

"I'd love to play," he told her, and took the chair beside her. Maybe cards could be their new thing. "Deal me in."


	40. Dinner at the Taylors

**Chapter 40**

When Dale and Cleo arrived for dinner, Tami immediately noticed Cleo's new engagement ring. There was profuse oooing and awing and Eric and Dale left them to chat while they went out back to grill and Julie played across the street with the neighbor kids.

"Does Cleo not drink?" Eric asked as he closed the grill and sat in the deck chair next to Dale.

"Not much."

"Is that a religious thing?"

"Not with her," Dale said. "She's never been strictly in keeping with Orthodoxy. I mean…" He laughed. "I wasn't even the one who initiated the first time."

Eric raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Cleo didn't seem shy, but she _did_ seem modest. "This sounds like a good locker room story."

"Oh, no, I'd never live it down if I told this one in a locker room."

"A good back porch story then?" Eric asked.

Dale glanced behind himself, as if to make sure they were still alone, and then sat forward again. "I thought Cleo and I would be friends. I was half in love with her, but I didn't think we'd ever actually get together. She was too conservative. I didn't even ask her out."

"No?" Dale seemed confident around women. He sure had been around both Sarah and Kimberley, though of course he had no intention of dating either. Hell, Dale had even charmed Tami a little bit. Eric couldn't imagine him being hesitant to ask a woman out.

"I didn't make a move, other than to touch her casually here and there," Dale continued. "Six months we'd been going out to coffee and talking – having these amazingly deep conversations. And I'd take her to the range to teach her to shoot, and we'd flirt and accidentally brush up against each other. But that was it."

"I can't believe you didn't ask her out."

"I was afraid she'd say no, because I wasn't part of her culture, and then it would be awkward that I'd asked. I didn't want to ruin what we already seemed to have going."

"But then….?"

"One day we're working this case that requires me to leave Cairo and go to another city to meet with some local authorities. She comes with me to translate, and we're both staying in the same hotel on different floors. We do our work, part ways, and I go to my room. A half hour later, there's a knock on my door. It's Cleo."

Eric smiled. "Really?"

"She says her air conditioning is broken in her room, and she's really hot, and can she cool off for a bit in my room."

Eric chuckled.

"Brother, I thought she was serious. I thought her air conditioning was really broken."

"You did _not_."

"I did. I couldn't imagine..." Dale laughed at himself. "So I say, sure, come in, and I sit in the arm chair and ask if she wants to watch some TV while she cools off."

Eric shook his head.

"I offer her a seat on the couch, but she sits on the edge of my bed instead."

"_Then_ you got the message?" Eric asked.

"No. I turned on the TV."

Eric threw back his head and laughed.

"She asks me to turn it off. Says she doesn't watch much TV. So I do turn it off. And she's sitting there on my _bed_, in my _hotel room_, and I'm just sitting in the chair, thinking, this is nice. This is nice to get to talk to her a little more today."

Eric was laughing silently now, his lips held closed.

"So we talk for a bit, and she says even in my room, with the air conditioning working, she's quite hot, and do I mind if she takes off her outer garment. She takes it off, and what's underneath is very low cut. When I lived in L.A., I wouldn't have batted an eye. But she never goes out in public like that. So I'm mesmerized. Still, I keep sitting in the chair."

"Damn, Dale!"

"I know. I still wasn't processing it. I mean…it was like a Penthouse letter. That doesn't happen to me. Sure, women flirt with me all the time. But they don't just come up to my room and start taking off clothes."

"She probably had to," Eric said, "You were so damn dense. Six months, and you hadn't even asked her out?" Now Eric was the one to look behind himself to make sure they were alone and the sliding glass door was well shut. "So then what?"

"So I sit there like an idiot and keep talking about the case. Eventually she puts her outer garment back on, says she should be getting back to her room."

"Damn, Dale."

"Yeah, I know. It gets worse."

"How can it get worse?' Eric asked.

**[FNL]**

"I'm so glad to be getting to know you, Tami," Cleo said after they'd settled at the kitchen table to chat. "It will be so nice to have at least one friend in the area. It's all going to be so new to me."

Tami smiled weakly. "We might actually be moving this summer."

"Why?"

"Eric's got a good job offer in Dillon. It's four hours away. We haven't decided yet if we're going to take it."

"I like how you say _we_. My late husband took it for granted that we would always put his career first. I had the opportunity to do my Ph.D. work at Cambridge, which was my first choice, but I had to do it at Cairo because of his professorship."

"Well, to be honest, Eric's career has always taken precedence. We discuss every opportunity. We reach agreement. But in the end…." Tami sighed. "The truth is, we've always followed his career."

"I guess that's just how marriage is sometimes," Cleo said. "It's not possible to move in two different directions. And that requires compromise."

"Is it a compromise, though?" Tami asked. "When the woman is always following the man?"

"Perhaps compromise is not quite the right word," Cleo answered. "It's a sacrifice. But I don't think there's anything wrong with being sacrificial when you love someone. There is a saying in my country: _a back does not break from bending_."

Tami considered this. "Sometimes I feel angry that it never seems to be my turn," she admitted. "And sometimes I think it's just the practical thing to do, to make his career our joint priority. People need counseling in every town, but there are only so many quality high school coaching jobs. And let's face it - at this point in the game, after I took off time to have Julie and stay home with her, and I quit a couple of jobs to move for his jobs…I just don't have the earning potential he does."

"Life is full of trade-offs," Cleo said. "But you seem to have a good man. I don't know Eric, but Dale certainly thinks highly of him, of your marriage. And I certainly don't know anything about football, but I gather he's good at his job?"

"He's an excellent coach. And I _do_ admire his passion for what he does. He's good at molding those boys into more disciplined young men. What he does…it's more than football. And in some ways, I think I see Eric's accomplishments as my own. I do have my own dreams, too, of course, but because I've supported him in reaching his goals, they become _our _goals. Does that make any sense?"

"It does," Cleo said.

"We're a team. No player can get to the goal without the support of his team. And Eric acknowledges that. I think that's the big thing. He acknowledges that he couldn't achieve what he's achieved without me. If he didn't do that, I don't think I could have supported him the way I have. Maybe sometimes you do just have to choose one goal, one mutual goal, and work toward it together. You can't keep moving the goal posts all over the field. You'll never reach them."

"So," Cleo said, "it sounds like perhaps you _have_ decided."

**[FNL]**

"Cleo's at the door," Dale continued, "and I'm standing up now to see her out. I'm halfway to the door, and she has her hand on the handle, and it suddenly dawns on me that her air conditioner is not, in fact, broken."

Eric chuckled. "So what did you do?"

"I shouted – _I want to have sex with you!_"

"No!"

"Yes."

"No," Eric insisted. "You didn't do that."

"I did," Dale confessed. "It just came out."

"So what did she do?"

"I thought I'd ruined it. I thought it would be all over from there. I thought…no more coffee. No more accidental brushes in the hallway. No more deep, lunchtime conversations. No more flirting. But she just laughed. She said I was adorable. And then she asked if I had any condoms."

"And you two finished the Penthouse letter," Eric said.

"Well, thing is, I _didn't_ have any condoms."

"Ah, Dale, man! Why not?"

"I don't just…you know…I don't carry them around in my wallet, like you used to in high school."

"Well you never know," Eric said.

"**_You_** never knew. But I was never interested in the one-night-stand thing."

"Well neither was I! I don't know what you think I was doing in high school. Did you think I was having orgies between girlfriends?"

"No, but you were always dating _someone_. At that point, I hadn't dated anyone since Janet. She broke it off months before I moved to Cairo. I hadn't dated in almost a year."

In high school, the longest Eric had ever gone without a girlfriend was that two months between when Kimberley broke up with him and when Tami agreed to date him. But if he were to find himself suddenly without Tami, he wasn't sure if he could handle the modern, adult dating world. When he got engaged, his college buddies had mocked him for surrendering his freedom, his chance for variety, but he knew he was lucky to have married a good woman while he was young. He would hate to have to find a woman to date now, get tired of her or be grown tired of, and then start all over again with another woman, enacting the same dating rituals, again and again. How much better to have someone you loved to come home to, someone you didn't have to pretend with, someone who liked you for yourself, a comfort in difficult times, and a steady supply of safe sex. He didn't envy single men.

"A'right," Eric said. "So what did you do? Run downstairs and get some?"

"Well, it's not the U.S. It's not like they're on sale in every bathroom and hotel lobby and grocery store. The pharmacy was miles away, and I just missed my moment. We ended up just kissing for a while, and then she went back to her room."

Eric shook his head.

"Our first time was at my apartment, during lunch break, a week later."

Eric chuckled. "That story is too funny. Can I tell Tami?"

"Hell no."

"C'mon. She thinks you're so suave."

"Then definitely not. Maintain the illusion."

Eric got up to check the brisket. "The suave, intelligent, French-speaking Dale Taylor. And his little brother, the dumb jock."

"Dumb jock, my ass. You couldn't even pass for dumb in high school when you _tried_."

Eric sat back down. "But I'm not smart like _you._"

"No," Dale said, reaching down for his glass of ice tea. "You're probably smarter."

"Like hell. Dale Taylor, high school salu-dick-tory. Graduated college coom-laudy."

"You know damn well it's salutatorian and cum laude. That's what I'm talking about. Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Eric asked.

"Pretend you don't know things you know."

"Maybe I _don't_ know them, Dale. Did you ever think of that?"

"Maybe. But let me ask you this – what did you get on the Wonderlic?"

Potential NFL draftees were given the test to gauge their intelligence. Eric knew that scoring either too high or too low could throw up a red flag. Most teams wanted a quarterback that scored at least 24 on the 50-point scale, but score too high and the front office guys and coaches feared you'd be second guessing the calls and causing conflict. "I don't remember," he said.

"It was in the high 40s, wasn't it?"

"It was higher than I expected." Eric knew he wasn't dumb; he'd seen how other players thought on the field, how the coaches thought, and how he thought. He figured he'd have no problem getting that 24, and he thought he might even get up to a 35. That was a good range. But he'd overshot. He knew it wasn't the test that caused him to be passed over; it was that decline in his stats his junior year, but he didn't think that unexpectedly high score helped him either.

"Seriously, Eric, why don't you like admitting how smart you are? You never have. Why not?"

Eric drained the last of his ice tea. "Because then people expect things," he admitted. "And then if I do something stupid, I look even stupider. And people can get weird about it. If they think you're smart, or think you think you're smart, they get defensive. They're always looking for you to trip up so they can point out you're not as smart as you think you are. I don't need that. And sometimes, strategically, it's to my advantage for people not to expect me to think too quickly. You can catch people off guard that way."

Dale nodded. "I can see that. That helps in interrogations."

"And there's a big difference," Eric said, "between being smart and being intellectual. I'm not an intellectual like you. "

"No one's ever called me an _intellectual_ before. That sounds pretty serious. Sounds like I could be a part of a super-secret club."

"I already assumed you were," Eric said with a smirk. "But you know what I mean. I never liked school. I bet you'd have gone to school forever if someone would just pay you to go."

"Aren't you a _teacher_?"

"I like teaching," Eric said, "But I don't like school." He got up to check the brisket again. When he sat back down, he said, "You know, it goes both ways. I bet when you were with your orchestra pals or your French club pals or your National Honor Society pals that you never made a point of the fact that you were a gun nut. Because they would have thought you _weren't_ smart."

"Well I can't help it if people are prejudiced. And you've never met a gun nut if you think I'm a gun nut. My collection is minuscule compared to most enthusiasts. I'll introduce you to my old Miami partner at the wedding if you want to meet a _real_ gun nut."

"Speaking of that…am I supposed to throw you a bachelor party?" Eric didn't know any of his brother's friends, and Tami always organized the team barbecues and navigated him through the booster-smoozing cocktail parties. He'd never even thrown a party in high school. Mo or Jimmy or one of the other guys always threw the parties.

"No offense, brother," Dale answered. "I know that's a best man duty, but I have a friend who's going to be a groomsmen that I think I'd like to give that responsibility to."

"Thank God."

Dale laughed. "You just need to show up and make it through the night."

"A'right. Just don't have it during spring training."

**[FNL]**

Tami and Cleo had continued talking about the joys and trials of marriage. "I only dated my first husband for five months," Cleo told Tami. "We rushed into marriage because we wanted to have sex, and you don't do that in my culture unless you're married. Or you're extremely discreet. And back then…I wouldn't do it, as much as I wanted to. So when he proposed, even though I was only 20, I didn't think too hard. He was 27. Established. Handsome. Brilliant. Why not? Then I got pregnant immediately. Then the second child followed the first in a year. I was exhausted, trying to finish my degree, thinking about graduate school, juggling the kids."

"That was our hardest time. When Julie was a baby." Eric had been grumpy that the sex had slowed down. They'd argued over parental duties. They'd both been tired and cranky. Tami had gotten desperate. She'd called her mother and asked her to take Julie for a weekend, when she was six months old, so that she and Eric could get away and reconnect. And they had reconnected that weekend. Several times in body, but more deeply in heart. They'd had a lot of conversations about their fears and expectations as parents, and come to an agreement on some kind of balance. Tami had decided to quit the part-time job she'd had at the time and stay home full-time, at least for the next year.

Eric came in the kitchen and said, "Brisket's ready. I sent Dale to fetch Julie, but I think he just joined the neighbor kids' kickball game. Maybe you could lure him back in, Cleo."

After dinner, Julie cracked out Trivial Pursuit, the Genus II edition. She didn't like the classic one that asked about all those actors and movies and musician who were famous before she was ever born. She insisted that her uncle be on her team. Tami and Cleo formed a team and Eric said, "I'll just read the cards for everyone."

"No!" Tami insisted. "We need someone to answer the sports questions over here. You're on our team."

Dale glanced at Julie. "Who's going to answer our sports questions?"

"If it's football I know it," Julie said. "And it it's not football, there's no guarantee Dad knows it." She looked across the dining room table at the three adults. "And I think they're at a serious disadvantage in the Entertainment category."

"Hey, I'm hip!" Tami insisted. "I know all the Entertainment questions."

Julie snorted.

When both teams had all of their pie pieces, and no one could seem to get that middle question right, the girls insisted on calling a draw, while the boys insisted on remaining to battle it out. Julie went to call Maria, promising to get off the phone in time to ring in the New Year with her own glass of sparkling cider, while Tami and Cleo retreated to the living room.

"Dale's good with Julie," Tami observed. "I wish he'd been more a part of our lives when she was younger."

"I think he would have made a good father," Cleo said. "I know he had a bad relationship with his own, but…he's good with kids."

"Are you two planning to have any?"

"We're not going to use any birth control once we get married. But I'm forty. I think the odds are low on that one."

Tami wondered if she would have the energy for a baby at forty. She didn't think so. At any rate, a baby wasn't in their future. It had been too long. If it was going to happen, it would have happened by now.

"And, who knows," Cleo continued, "It may not be long before I'm a grandmother. I think my eldest is planning to propose to his girlfriend when he graduates from university."

If the boy started at 16, he'd probably be 20. That was awfully young to be getting married, Tami thought. She would freak out if Julie wanted to marry at that age. Tami had not yet turned 21 herself when she got married, but she was already pregnant, and it was a different world.

"That did not count!" Dale shouted from the dining room. "Russia is NOT the same as the U.S.S.R."

"Boys!" Tami hollered. "Call a truce. It's almost time to ring in the New Year!"

Eric emerged into the living room. "Do you need your champagne, babe?"

"I think maybe I do need my champagne."

They turned on the TV to watch the ball drop in New York and rang in the New Year at 11 PM Texas time. They let Julie have two small sips of champagne. Cleo and Dale left at 11:30, probably to have their own private party, and Julie retired to bed to read. Eric faintly hoped that he and Tami would fool around, but after his glorious afternoon surprise, he had no intention of being greedy. He did, however, pour her a second glass of champagne, the last left in the bottle. It couldn't hurt.


	41. Intimacy

**Chapter 41**

Tami was humming in the bathroom as she got ready for bed. Eric leaned in the open door frame and watched her dry her face. She'd just taken off her makeup. She had on an Owls t-shirt and black sweats, hardly an open invitation to sex. Of course, he just had on gray sweats and a white t-shirt, but clothing had never been a means of seduction for him, unless you counted a dark suit or tux, which inevitably seemed to turn her on. He couldn't wear one of those to bed, though. He supposed he'd get laid the night of Dale's wedding.

"That was a good time," she said, "with Dale and Cleo. Her California cousin is going to be the maid of honor. She asked me to be a bridesmaid, since she doesn't really know anyone here yet. She needs to balance out Dale's side, since he's having you and some friend stand up. I said yes."

"You look gorgeous," he told her.

"Sure. Without my makeup."

"You don't need any of that, babe. You're a natural beauty."

She gave him a suspicious look, flicked off the bathroom light, and squeezed past him in the door frame.

He turned and followed her to the master bedroom. "I mean it," he said. "You know I do."

She chuckled. She plucked up her brush from her vanity and extended it to him. "Would you brush my hair for me, sweetheart?"

He smiled. "Sure."

She sat between his legs on the edge of the bed while he sat behind her. Tami shook her hair out in a loose wave. He breathed in. Eric loved the smell of her hair, the silky touch. He began to run the brush slowly through her thick tresses.

The first time she'd ever asked him to brush her hair, they'd been at her house, watching a video on the couch. They'd officially been dating two months, but he still hadn't gotten past first base with her. Usually he was on third by now.

It seemed like such a weird request to him at the time. Girls did each other's hair. That wasn't something a guy did. So he laughed when she asked, and said, "You're hair looks fine," and kissed her. They made out for a while, but Tami seemed distracted. She told him she had to study and that he should go home.

Eric mentioned the odd request to Coach Rayburn the next night, while Coach was cleaning his grill on his back porch after dinner. Coach was easy to talk to about just about anything. He'd give you a hard time, rag on you, but you always had this sense you could trust him, that he'd never share a thing you said, that he was fond of you, and that he'd tell you things your father wouldn't but you wished he would. Eric thought having Coach Rayburn take over the team his junior year was one of the best things that had ever happened to him. It was the second semester of his senior year now, and he already had his scholarship offer, and he was done with the Midland Mountain Lions, but here Coach still was, inviting him to dinner, taking an interest, while Eric's parents worked odd hours.

"You told her no?" Coach asked.

"Well…I mean….it's kind of gay."

Coach Rayburn turned and leveled his eyes at Eric. He had these cool, gray eyes that could darken just to scold you. He was the most mild coach Eric had ever had. Even his Pee Wee coaches had been hard asses compared to Coach Rayburn. And yet the man always seemed to know what he was doing. When you messed up, he didn't have to yell at you to make you feel one-inch tall. He just had to frown. He was frowning now. "Gay?"

"Yeah. I mean…Brushing hair?"

"It's intimate, Eric. She asked you for some intimacy, and you laughed at her."

Eric used to think intimacy was when you took off your clothes. But he was beginning to realize that, even though he hadn't even made it to second base yet, sometimes he was more naked with Tami than he'd been with any previous girlfriend. He told her things he didn't tell other people. They talked in ways he'd never talked to a girl before. Who knew? Maybe it was because they weren't preoccupied with sex.

"I just thought it seemed kind of gay," Eric muttered.

"Is someone keeping a gay score card on you?" Coach Rayburn asked, his gray eyes twinkling now.

"Uh… "

"How many gay points is hair brushing? Is that more or less than going to a romantic comedy?"

Eric smiled and looked down at the porch. "A'right. I get you."

Coach Rayburn scrubbed the last inch of the grill. He shut it. "You like this girl? Tami?"

"Yes, sir. Very much."

"Then let me give you a piece of advice. When she asks you to do something that brings her pleasure, do it. Because giving your girlfriend pleasure – not gay."

"Yes, sir."

Now, after over a decade of brushing Tami's hair whenever she happened to ask, Eric could say his coach's advice was well placed.

Tami sighed contentedly, and he could see her physically unwinding. He drew the brush through her long hair one last time, and then followed its path with his own fingers before pushing her hair aside to expose her neck. He leaned down and kissed the bare flesh, and she smiled. Then he slid her hair over again and kissed the other side of her neck. She leaned back against his chest and rested her head on his shoulder to give him better access.

Eric dropped the brush on the bed, rested his hands on her stomach, and ministered to her neck with nips and kisses and gentle sucks.

Tami smiled. "Don't leave a hickey," she said. "I have to work the day after tomorrow."

He should leave a hickey, he thought. It would be sweet revenge. She'd given him one the night before his first day on his first coaching job. He'd gone in to meet the head coach and other assistant coaches in his burnt orange uniform polo, with the collar popped up to hide the evidence, a week before summer training.

"Who do you think you are?" the head coach had asked. "The Fonz? Fold that shirt collar down. You want to keep this job, you dress appropriately."

Mortified, Eric had obeyed, and when the collar was down, the offensive coordinator had burst out laughing. "Jesus," he said, "is that a _hickey_? How old is this kid? "

Tami squirmed as Eric assaulted her neck now. She stretched her arms back behind herself and around his own neck. This had the effect of calling his attention to her chest. He slid his hands up from her stomach. He cupped and kneaded her breasts, and then toyed with her nipples through the cotton shirt until they were erect, all the while nibbling and kissing his way down her neck. She shifted herself to get a better position, which caused her lower back to rub against his growing erection.

He took a sharp breath and then moved away. He knew he owed her some serious attention after the wild release she'd given him this afternoon, and he wasn't going to be able to provide it if she kept shifting against him like that.

"Where are you going?" she asked as he untangled himself from her and slid off the side of the bed.

"Here," he whispered as he kneeled on the floor before her. He placed a hand on either of her hips and looked into her eyes. She smiled and stroked his cheek with the back of her hand.

"Tell me what you want, Tami," he said softly. "I want to please you."

She bent forward and kissed his ear. "Could I maybe get a _massage_?"

When she said it like that, her voice low and suggestive, he knew she didn't mean a mere backrub. He smiled and rose to walk to the nightstand on her side of the bed.

"The strawberry," she said as he dug through the contents of the drawer. "Or whatever you want. You'll be the one tasting it eventually. I just like the smell."

He found the vanilla massage oil first, and rolled it aside. She had a book in there, and her reading glasses, some KY, a sexy card game she'd made him play once (he'd thought it was silly, but he hardly cared; he knew he was getting laid at the end of it), a pen, and…he found it. The strawberry massage oil.

When he turned around, she was completely naked. Her clothes lay in a pile on the floor. He swallowed, his eyes roaming her form.

She slid herself sideways across the bed, on her stomach, and rested her head on her folded arms. "Take your time," she told him, and he wanted to.

He wanted time to stop, here with her, at the birth of this new year, in this moment of beauty.


	42. Contract Negotiations

**Chapter 42**

When Eric came to the kitchen on New Year's morning, Tami was sipping coffee and reading his contracts at the table.

"What do you think?" he asked hesitantly.

"Why don't you sit down," she said.

He poured himself a cup of coffee and sat across from her.

She flipped to the third page of the teaching contract. "It's not clear whether they're spreading out your salary over the school year or the entire year."

"The total figure's there. It's what I'm making now for the teaching. More for the stipend."

"I know, but we need to know _when_ the money is coming in. If you accept, you need to get that clarified."

"A'right."

"This option to renew," she asked, moving to the second contract. "Does that mean you're guaranteed at least three years?"

"That's how I understand it," he said. "I'll call and clarify."

"They expect you to come for spring training," she said as she turned to another page. "If you accept, how are you going to do that if you're still teaching at Oliver Loving until the end of the school year?"

"I haven't used any of my leave. I'll just get a substitute. I can probably stay with Buddy or the Streets to save money on a hotel."

She closed the contract. "Can you tell me why this job is so important to you?" she asked.

He felt like he was at an interview. "It's Jason," he said. "That kid is phenomenoal. If you'd just seen him in Pee Wee…I can't explain it, but he's going to be something else. I can help him become one of the best high school quarterbacks in the state of Texas. I just don't see anything opening up in the DFW area that is going to give me the same kind of chance to work my way to head coach. There are too many people in this area. So many coaches to draw from."

His cell phone rang. It was Dale. He left the table to talk to him and when he returned, he told Tami, "Dale wants to take us shooting today. Julie's at that half-day jazz dance camp she signed up for, so we could go, if you want."

"Cleo's leaving tomorrow. He doesn't want to spend the day with her?" Tami asked.

"Well, she's coming too. She likes hanging out with you. They're both social people I guess."

"Can you handle a little more socializing?" she asked with a smirk.

He nodded. "It's just Dale."

"What kind of range is open on New Year's Day?"

Eric leaned his arms on the back of his kitchen chair. "Dale knows a guy. He owns a range. We'll probably be the only ones there."

"Dale knows an awful lot of guys for someone who's lived here for less than three weeks."

"He cultivates contacts in his world. Just like I try to do with coaches and front office guys. You want to go or not?"

"Sure," Tami agreed. "I'll feel better about going to that concealed carry class in two weeks if I've at least been to the range first." She looked at the contracts. "Let's finish talking about this tonight. I need a shower. And some breakfast."

**[FNL]**

When they were dropping their gear bags on the benches of the otherwise deserted range, Tami took off her jacket, and Cleo said, "Your shirt is too low cut."

Tami felt a flash of anger. She knew Cleo was modest, but to insult her like that? Really? Mixed with the anger was disappointment, because she truly liked Cleo.

"I mean for shooting!" Cleo hastened. "The brass casings from the ammunition can sometimes go down in your shirt. The third time Dale took me to the range, I had on a shirt that was just a little bit loose, and I still had a piece fly right into my cleavage." Dale chuckled, and Cleo cast him a scolding look. "Dale thought he had to fish it out for me."

"Well I did, mon amour. You just stood there screaming. You didn't seem to know what had happened, and you weren't grabbing it out. One of us had to before it burned you further."

Tami did not like the sound of this cleavage-burning brass. "Eric, give me your sweatshirt," she insisted. He pulled his A&amp;M sweatshirt over his head and handed it to her. She stretched out an arm of the shirt and turned it toward him to show him the hole. "How old is this? Did you have this in college?"

"It's my favorite, Tami," he insisted.

She shook her head affectionately and pulled the sweatshirt on over her v neck.

After Dale had talked them through the ranges rules, gun safety, and proper operation of a handgun, they each shot several rounds.

Tami set the gun down on the table and took her ear protection off after taking her second turn at the target. "I kind of like this!" she said. She'd shot a handgun before, on two occasions, but she hadn't done as well as she was doing today. No one, however, had given her the kind of specific pointers Dale was giving her.

"She out shot you, brother," Dale said. "On her first trip to the range!"

"It's not her first trip," Eric insisted. "And I haven't been shooting very often myself."

Dale laughed. "You're a natural, Tami."

"Well I had a good teacher," she said.

They all went to lunch afterwards at a BBQ joint, and Tami told Dale, "You should consider becoming a firearms instructor in your retirement."

Cleo wiped her hands on a wet nap. "It would certainly give me a little more…what is the expression? Peace of mind." She looked at Dale and smiled. "You wouldn't have to work long hours or travel much, and there wouldn't be as much risk as there would be in a private security business."

"It wouldn't pay nearly as well," Dale said.

"You'd have your retirement income, though," Cleo told him. "And I'd still be working as a translator. I doubt we'd have any financial concerns."

Dale took a sip of his ice tea. "I'll take it under advisement," he said. "After all, Eric told me marriage requires compromise. Didn't you, brother?"

Tami raised an eyebrow at her husband. Eric caught her eyes and looked down at his BBQ ribs. He thought of how Tami was considering this move to Dillon for him, and how little time he had spent considering the possibility of staying for her.

**[FNL]**

That night, after dinner, when Julie had retreated to the living room to do her homework, Tami and Eric lingered at the kitchen table.

"Tell me why you want to stay here," Eric opened. "Why is that so important to you?"

"I appreciate you asking me that." Tami had been feeling like her wants were not a part of his thought process.

She talked about the cultural opportunities, the friendships she'd made with some of the neighbors. "I love having girlfriends who talk about more than town gossip and draperies," she said. "The book club here actually reads the books."

She talked about Julie's friendship with Maria, and how important that was for her, "especially in middle school, which is the hardest time in a girl's life."

She talked about her sister moving to Dallas soon, "and I know she annoys you, and sometimes she annoys me, but she's family. I haven't lived near family in…well…since college." She talked about Dale, and how good she thought that relationship was for Eric. "Having another man you can talk to about something other than football? That's huge for you. I want that for you."

"I can talk to him on the phone." It was the first time Eric had interrupted her, instead of just listening.

"You can, but it's not the same. And Cleo could use a friend here. I'd like to be that for her." Tami talked about her job. "I know it makes you nervous, that part of town, but I feel like I've helped some of these women. I do. I feel like I could help them more."

He nodded at the table. "I understand," he said. "They're all very good reasons."

"I appreciate you acknowledging that, Eric."

He looked up at her. "I wish we could….I wish we could have it all. I wish this offer was here."

"So do I," she said, "but it's not. We have to make a decision."

Maybe he should just settle here in Fort Worth and wait for a better opportunity, he thought, even if that meant losing years climbing the ladder. It would make her happy, after all, if he would just put some roots down, instead of always looking for the best soil. "I love football," he said, still holding her eyes.

"I know you do."

"But I love you more than football."

She smiled. "That would make a real nice Hallmark card, sweetheart."

"But listen. Can I tell you something? It's important to me to be a good provider for this family. To not stagnate in my career. It's how…it's one of the ways I love y'all. I want to give you things, Tami. I want to give you a better house. Not the dream house I once thought I'd buy you on my NFL salary, but a better one at least."

"Eric, I don't really need – "

"-I want to give you that, babe. I can't help it. And I want us both to give Julie a great college education. And I need to work my way up quickly to a head coaching position so we can really start saving for the big things, and I think I can do that on the Panthers. We can pay the bills here even if I don't ever get promoted. But paying the bills isn't enough, not for what I want to give this family one day."

She looked at him fondly.

"And I want to be a more important man," he admitted. "For you. Not just for me."

His ambition had once attracted her to him, but his ambition required compromise. Lately, she'd begun to dismiss his drive as a way to stroke his own ego. She hadn't thought about the fact that he might see it as a way to make himself more worthy of her. "I'm proud of you, Eric. Of all you've accomplished. I hope you know that."

He looked her straight in the eyes. His own eyes were intense, and glistening just a little, the way they did when he was trying to control some strong emotion. "I want to make you prouder."

She reached across the table and took his hand. "Thank you for being honest with me, sweetheart. Thank you for hearing me out and talking to me about what you're feeling, and….that's what matters to me, that we really hear each other, and then we make this decision together."

He squeezed her hand. "Thirteen days," he said. "That's all we've got to decide."

**[FNL]**

The next day, Cleo returned to Egypt to settle her affairs and await her work visa. School resumed.

Eric was sitting at his office desk after school, grading a pop quiz he'd given to his sociology students just to wake them up, when Dale called and invited him out for a drink. Julie had debate team practice after school today, so she wouldn't be home until after Tami got home from work anyway. Eric agreed.

Dale picked him up at school in his Dodge Charger instead of his personal car.

"So this is official work business?" Eric asked with a smirk as he buckled in.

"Well…I just _came_ from work. I was over at the Fort Worth Resident Office today, doing a briefing."

Eric didn't know what that meant and didn't much care. "When are you going to let me drive this thing?"

"Never," Dale said. "I could lose my job."

They began driving toward a local watering hole, which required them to get on the highway. After a few minutes of driving, the radio crackled, something about an armed suspect.

"You need to respond to that?" Eric asked.

"No. That's local noise. I get the police radio on this. If it's drug related, and I'm interested, I tell one of my guys to show up."

"Gun shot heard…" the radio crackled.

"I do too much desk work now," Dale said. "I know I need the administrative experience for when I'm out of the DEA, but I'm going to miss working the street."

The radio continued to crackle. "Corner of…"

"What?" Eric leaned forward. "Turn that up!"

Dale did.

"Hostage situation at the Women's Center on…"

"Is that where Tami works?" Dale asked.

Eric, half frozen, nodded.

Dale hit the button to lower his window, grabbed a portable siren, and slapped it on top of the roof.

"The exit to her office," Eric said, his throat dry with fear, "it was half a mile back."

Dale threw the car in reverse.

"Jesus!" Eric shouted, forgetting his fear for Tami for a second as Dale sped backwards, weaving through traffic, until he reached the exit.

Dale thrust the car into drive and sped down the ramp, siren blazing.


	43. No Comment

**Chapter 43**

Dale weaved around two parked police cars that were blocking off traffic at one of the end street. He popped the trunk as the Charger squealed to a stop beside a line of additional police cars. He was out of the car and grabbing something from his trunk before Eric could even open the door.

As Eric stumbled anxiously out of the Charger, he saw that Dale was now wearing a white vest emblazoned with the black letters D.E.A. and holding his AR-15 in one hand. A cop approached him, and Dale flashed his credentials. Eric looked toward the building where two more police cars were parked horizontally at the sidewalk directly in front. Three officers stood behind the cars, one with a megaphone and two with handguns drawn. The one with the megaphone was ordering the armed man to put his gun down and come out with his hands up.

The blinds to the lobby of Tami's office were opened, and through them Eric could see his wife, looking extremely tense but trying to speak calmly to a man who held a gun to another woman's head. They were the only people in the office. The secretary and other counselors must have gone home before the scene erupted.

Instinctively, Eric began to run toward her, but Dale grabbed him by the collar of his polo and yanked him back. Then, with a hand to a chest, he pushed Eric behind the farthest line of vehicles while motioning and hollering to one of the cops, "Keep my brother well behind these cars! And get him a vest. Just in case."

"Dale," Eric begged, "_Please._ Don't let her get hurt." It felt like he had rocks in his stomach and a fever was breaking out across his brow. "_Please_."

Dale turned and paced toward the cars parked closest to the office, shouting, "Where the hell is your S.W.A.T. team?"

Eric started to move forward again, but a cop held him back. "Stay here." He handed him a vest. "And put this on."

When Eric had the vest on and looked back at the scene, Dale was down on one knee by the hood of the front police car. His arm rested on his other raised knee, and his rifle was aimed at the window.

"What's happening?" Eric asked the cop who had apparently been assigned to babysit him. "Why isn't your S.W.A.T. team here?" He didn't know if the S.W.A.T. team was even _supposed_ to be here, but Dale seemed to think they should have already been on the scene.

"They were responding to something else across town," the cop said. "They're on their way. Just stay here. Stay put."

"That's my wife in there."

"With the gun to her head?"

"No. Talking to him. What does he want?" Eric asked.

"We don't know," the cop answered. "We all just got here a few minutes ago. He hasn't asked for anything. He hasn't done anything but stand there with a gun to that woman's head."

Eric could tell Tami was trying to reason with the man, even though her body was shaking. For a moment, Eric thought her words had worked, because the man began to withdraw the gun from the woman's head.

But then he grabbed Tami instead. He pressed the barrel of his handgun against her temple and turned her toward the window.

What happened next could not have taken more than a few seconds, but it seemed to Eric to unfold in a vacuum of slow motion. The man shouted something that could not be heard through the glass. Meanwhile, the other woman began to run toward the door. Eric didn't look at the fleeing woman, because his eyes were locked on Tami and her captor.

As the other woman ran, Tami's captor withdrew the gun from Tami's head, stretched out his arm, and pointed the barrel at the fleeing woman. Eric heard the sharp, loud pop of a single gunshot.

His first feeling was relief. The man had just shot a woman, but it wasn't _his_ woman. His woman was still alive. She was still standing.

His second feeling was terror, because the man still had Tami tightly by the arm, and he was clearly willing to kill since he had just shot someone.

Eric's third feeling was confusion, because the woman he thought had been shot was now coming out of the front door. She ran to safety behind the police car and into the arms of the officer with the megaphone.

And that was when Tami's captor slumped to the floor.

Dale flew out from around the car and ran inside the office. Sirens wailed through the street. An ambulance arrived, and the medics poured out. An armored S.W.A.T. team vehicle pulled up beside it, and men in black spilled out, swarming into the office like ants.

Dazed, Eric began to run forward, but again he was held back. Dale emerged. In one hand, he held his rifle. The other arm was wrapped around Tami, supporting her and walking her forward.

"Let me go!" Eric shouted, and the cop did.

Dale delivered Tami into Eric's arms and said, "She's okay. She's okay. She's shook up. Get the medics to get her something to calm her down." And then he disappeared back into the office.

**[FNL]**

While Tami was being checked out by the medics, Eric glanced from time to time at the scene. The hostage taker was loaded into a second ambulance that had arrived shortly after the first. Through the crowd of medics, Eric couldn't see where he'd been shot, and didn't know if he was alive or dead. The ambulance doors closed, and it took off. Crime tape went up. Media showed up and was roped off from the scene. Dale was talking to the police and moving in and out of the office.

Eric called the Sanchezes to see if they could pick up Julie from debate team practice and keep her until they got home. He and Tami ended up going to the police station, where Eric sat beside his wife, an arm tightly and protectively around her, while she answered their questions.

The hostage taker had been the ex-husband of one of Tami's clients. He'd burst into the office during her last counseling session of the day and demanded vengeance for the divorce that he claimed had financially ruined him. He'd dragged Tami's client out of her session, gun to her head, and Tami had followed him to the lobby and tried to reason with him.

He'd shot upward at the ceiling to show he was serious, and the gunshot was heard next door, and the police were called.

Eric didn't see Dale again. An officer drove them home. When they were alone in the living room, Tami finally broke down. She threw herself into Eric's arms and wept and he held her tighter than he had ever held her before.

**[FNL]**

Julie hugged her mom fiercely that night when the Sanchezes dropped her off at home, but she wasn't rattled the way her parents were. Before she even knew the incident had happened, she knew her mother was unhurt, because that's how Mrs. Sanchez had presented it to her. "Your mother is safe," she'd said when she picked Julie and Maria up from debate team practice. "There was an incident, but your mother is perfectly safe."

The Sahnchezes had then taken her back to their house, fed her dinner, and turned on the news. They'd watched the aftermath. There were assorted photos of the hostage taker, including wedding photos the media had somehow obtained in a short space of time, and video footage of the crime scene.

Julie saw Uncle Dale walking near the yellow tape, and as he did so, a reporter shoved a microphone in his face and said, "Reports are you shot the hostage taker. How did you make that call?"

"No comment."

"Why was the D.E.A. involved in this incident?"

"No comment."

"How did – "

"- No comment." Uncle Dale walked away.

Julie felt almost as if this was a story she was reading in a book and not real life. A sense of childish pride welled up in her. "That's my uncle," she told Maria. "That's my uncle who got the bad guy."


	44. Qualified

**Chapter 44**

The next morning, an early morning phone call woke Tami. It was the director of the Women's Center, informing her that the office would be closed until further notice.

Eric called in sick to work, but Julie begged to go to school. "I don't see why _I_ have to stay home," she said. "We're doing an experiment in science today!"

She didn't seem to grasp the enormity of the situation, but Eric reminded himself that she was still essentially a kid, not even twelve for another month. "Fine," Eric agreed. "Just…if anyone from the media shows up at your school and tries to talk to you about your mom or what happened last night, you tell them to leave you alone. You walk away, a'right?"

"No comment," she said, in the same tone of authority she'd heard Uncle Dale use on the TV. "I know."

Eric drove her to school. She usually biked, but he felt the need to drive her that morning. He scanned the area for TV vans when he dropped her off, and he didn't see any. He called over the assistant principal, who was working the carpool line. "You hear what happened last night?" he asked her.

She nodded seriously. "How's Mrs. Taylor?"

"She's fine," he said, which was not entirely true. She was still very shook up. "Please call me if anyone from the media tries to talk to Julie."

"We'll see that no one does, Coach Taylor."

On his drive home, he called Dale, but only got his voice mail. They hadn't been able to speak since the incident.

When he got back to the house, he crawled back into bed with Tami, who had gone back to sleep. She murmured and turned into his embrace. Her eyelids fluttered open. "I didn't sleep well," she said.

"I know. You can go back to sleep now. I didn't mean to wake you."

"I can't sleep anymore."

For a long time he held her, stroking her hair, kissing her forehead, whispering how very much he loved her.

Eventually, his need for her overwhelmed him. "I want to make love to you, Tami. Would that be a'right?" He knew she was still reeling from the situation, but he'd almost lost her yesterday. The desire to be close to her was crushing him.

She nodded. He claimed her lips, and eventually her body, with a slow intensity.

Halfway through the act, Tami started crying. When he felt her tears on his own cheek, Eric ceased his deliberate thrusts. His breath rose and fell in heavy waves. He began to pull away, feeling guilty for asking this of her, but she held him tightly. "No," she whispered. "Don't stop. Please. Please, Eric. I _need_ you. Please."

He began to move again, more deeply, more slowly. He held her eyes with his until she closed hers and arched her back and moaned, and then he let go of his own restraint.

They lay in bed quietly afterwards, limbs entwined, breathing rhythmically, trembling from the release, flesh pressed against warm, slick flesh.

She was the first one to speak. "You were right," she said. "You were right to worry about me working there."

"I don't want to be right," he said.

He closed his eyes, rested his chin on top of her head, and hugged her more tightly against his chest.

"Listen," he said eventually. "I'm going to call the head coach of the Panthers tomorrow and tell him I'm turning down the contract. I'll sign the contract with the Owls. I don't want to make you go through the stress of a move in six months. You've been through enough. I won't make you move away from your sister, your friends here. I won't make Julie move away from her best friend and the school she loves. I love you, Tami. I love you so much, and I just want you to be happy."

"No," she said firmly. "No, you're signing the Panthers contract."

He pulled away to look at her. "What?"

"I don't think I'm going back to this job, and right about now, a small, quiet town is starting to sound more peaceful than boring. And you're right. The Dillon offer _is_ the best opportunity to advance your career. You may not have another chance like this. You have dreams, and I want to help you realize those dreams. I want to walk with you, sugar, every step of the way."

He searched her eyes. "You sure about this?"

She nodded. "I am."

"It means a lot to me, Tami. Your support means the world to me. And I understand it's a compromise for you. I know Dillon isn't your ideal place to live."

"You know where my ideal place to live is, Eric?"

"A tropical island?"

She laughed. "No, sugar. Wherever you are. Wherever you are, that's my ideal place to live."

**[FNL]**

After breakfast, Eric tried to call Dale again, but still got his voice mail. He settled onto the couch, an arm around Tami.

"Let's watch something light," she said, "something distracting."

He turned on the TV and began flipping channels. He paused when he saw the press conference, with four authoritative looking people on the stage. The one who was speaking at the moment was labeled the Fort Worth Chief of Police. But to the side, next to him, was Dale, in a dark suit and tie. He looked so official.

The Police Chief finished speaking and took a step back. Dale came to the microphone. Superimposed on the screen beneath him in white letters were the words: Franklin Dale Taylor, Jr. - Special Agent in Charge - Dallas Division - D.E.A.

"Special Agent Taylor," a reporter in the front row asked, "Can you explain the D.E.A.'s involvement in this non-drug related domestic dispute?"

"This was considerably more than a domestic dispute," Dale answered. "This was a hostage situation, as Police Chief Warner has explained."

"But why was the D.E.A. involved?"

"The D.E.A. was not officially involved. I happened to be near the scene when the call came out over the radio. I responded to assist."

Another reported piped up now. "Agent Taylor, wasn't one of the hostages your sister-in-law?"

Dale put his hand over the microphone and leaned over and whispered something to the man standing directly to the right of him. The screen flashed up that man's name and his title –Administrator, D.E.A. The man nodded for Dale to answer, and Dale shook his head and whispered to the man some more. The Administrator hissed something in his ear. Dale clenched his teeth and stood straight again before the microphone.

"Yes," he answered.

"You were the one who took the fatal shot," another reporter said.

"Fatal?" Dale asked.

"John Raymond Phillips was pronounced dead in the hospital twenty minutes ago."

Tami covered her mouth with her hand. Eric tightened his arm around her and prepared to switch the channel, but she said, "No. I want to see this."

"You took that fatal shot," the reporter continued, "on your own initiative, and at the order of no one. The fact that your sister-in-law was a hostage – did that influence your judgement?"

Dale glanced at the Administrator, and the man nodded. Dale clearly did not want to be before that microphone. "No, it did not," Dale announced into the microphone. "Regardless of who was in that office, I would have fired. I had an opportunity for a clean shot , and the situation fully justified such a response. The perpetrator was aiming for his ex-wife and was preparing to shoot her. I prevented him from doing so."

"You also prevented him from potentially killing your sister-in-law."

"Potentially," Dale answered.

"And that didn't influence your decision?"

"I fail to see the relevance of this line of inquiry. If there are no further – "

"- I do have a further question," the reporter interrupted. "Was the AR-15 you used to shoot John Raymond Phillips, father of two – "

"- Father of two!" Tami shouted. "They put that out there like he was some kind of victim! Like he didn't have a gun to my head! Like he didn't abuse those two children and her! That's why she left him in the first place." Eric raised the remote again to change the channel, but she snatched it from him. "What did that reporter just ask?"

Eric shook his head. Dale was already answering: "…not regulation issue. It was a personally owned firearm that was in the trunk of my vehicle because I had been practicing at the range earlier in the morning."

"But were you authorized to carry that weapon?" the reporter asked.

Tami sat forward. "Is Dale in trouble?"

"I don't know," Eric muttered. Dale had covered the microphone again and was whispering anxiously to his boss. "He doesn't seem to think he should be answering these questions, but that man is clearly making him."

"What does his title mean?" Tami asked. "Administrator? Is that the head of the entire D.E.A.?"

"I guess," Eric said. "I hope they're not looking for some kind of scapegoat." Administrators did that, sometimes, Eric knew. He'd seen it happen in high school football once, several years ago, when an innocent coach who had just been doing his job was questioned for a call that unfortunately lead to a serious injury. The administration had hung him out to dry instead of backing him up.

"I'm not authorized to carry this specific model of firearm on enforcement operations," Dale answered, "However, this was not a DEA enforcement operation. I was on my way home from work when I heard the call, and I responded to assist. I did not have a regulation issued rifle in the car, as I am not, in my current supervisory role at the Dallas Division, directly involved in enforcement operations. I do carry a regulation handgun, but I knew it would be insufficient to address the situation at that range and with the barrier of a window, so I made use of my personally owned rifle, on which I am highly trained."

"So you're saying you completed the DEA's 16-hour proficiency course on the weapon you used in this incident?" the reporter asked.

"No," Dale answered. Eric could see a line jump in his jaw, probably because he was biting down on his back teeth. Eric knew. He did that when he was struggling to control his temper too. "There is no DEA proficiency course on this particular firearm, because, as I have already told you, it was not a DEA-issued firearm. It is a legally owned rifle, however, fully legal to own and transport in the state of Texas in the manner in which I was transporting it. _You_ yourself could own and transport this firearm. I have completed far more than 16 hours of training on the use of this rifle. I have probably completed over one hundred hours of training on this weapon."

"But was it official training?" the reporter asked.

Tami breathed in hard through her nostrils. "C'mon, y'all!" she shouted at the TV. "Stop asking these stupid questions!"

"Was the training _official_?" the reporter repeated. "Are you _officially qualified_ to – "

"- I took an abusive, murderous man down in a single shot through a window," Dale interrupted, "before he could kill two innocent women, and I did it without injuring anyone else. I think I'm damn well qualified!" Dale drew in a breath and closed his eyes for a moment.

Eric shook his head. The teeth clenching hadn't worked, and it was clear Dale now regretted his short-tempered response.

"You say you were coming home from work when you heard the call on the police radio," the same reporter continued. "If you were coming home from work, why did you have a civilian passenger in your government-owned vehicle?"

"Oh hell," Eric muttered.

"Is that bad?" Tami asked.

"I don't know," Eric answered. "He said it was okay, because he'd just come from work."

"This concludes the question and answer session," Dale said, and walked away from the microphone, under the stern eyes of the D.E.A..'s Administrator, who clearly had not given him permission to step down.


	45. What's Important

**A/N: **_Please review. That little bit of feedback makes the whole fanfic effort more fun and worthwhile and lets me know whether or not people are still reading. _

**Chapter 45**

Eric tried Dale again after dinner, this time from the kitchen phone, and his brother finally answered. "Thank you," Eric said. "Thank you for saving my wife's life. I can never repay you for that."

"How is she?"

"She's hanging in there. We stayed home today. It really shook her up, of course. Me too. What about you? Are you a'right?"

"Sure. I'm fine. Not even a scratch on me."

"No…I mean…you shot a man, Dale. You killed him."

"He was about to shoot his ex-wife. And he might have killed Tami."

"I know." Eric leaned his shoulder against the fridge. "You had to do what you did. But it can't be easy for you. Have you ever killed a man before?"

"No, but I knew it could come with the territory. I don't mean to sound callused, but I've spent years preparing myself mentally for the possibility. He was going to kill that woman. I don't feel guilty."

"Tami thinks….you should still….you know…talk to a professional. She wanted me to tell you that."

"I have to anyway. It's a requirement anytime an agent is involved in a shooting. Hell, I might even talk to the shrink about my daddy issues while I'm at it, since the taxpayer will be footing the bill."

Eric stood straight again. "That wouldn't be a bad idea, Dale."

"You ever see anyone about any of that?"

"Nah. I've always had Tami. Since I was eighteen." Eric walked forward in the kitchen, stretching the cord of the wall phone. He put a hand down on the counter, where he'd left the Panthers cap he'd received from Buddy in the mail today.

"Well, I'm about to have Cleo," Dale said. "I don't know if we can have quite the kind of thing you and Tami have, but I do love her. Very much. And I'm ready to put down roots."

Suddenly, Eric hated the idea of moving, even if he knew it would be the best thing for his family in the long run. He toyed with the stiff rim of his new cap. "Tami wants me to take the job. In Dillon."

"I'll miss having you around," Dale said.

"I'll visit. You can visit Dillon. Come to a football game."

"How's Julie taking it?" Dale asked.

"She seems to think she's hot stuff around school, the girl with the hero uncle."

"No, I mean, how's she taking the idea of a move?"

"We haven't told her yet." Maybe he better hide this Panthers cap away in the meantime. She might ask why he had it. "Don't mention it to her. We're going to wait a bit. She'll be dealing with this fall-out attention from the shooting for a while."

"I'm sorry about that. I wish I had the power to keep your family out of the news."

"Tami and I saw the press conference." Now Eric finally got to the topic that was concerning him. "Are you in trouble? What was all that stuff about the gun and me being in the car?"

"Technically I'm only supposed to use my car for work-related purposes. I shouldn't have picked you up like that, but almost every agent does it. You know, you go a little out of your way to meet a friend for dinner on the way home, drop the spouse off at the train station on the way to work. It's not a big deal unless someone wants it to be. The gun…that's just another asinine internal policy issue. It was a perfectly legal gun, it just wasn't regulation."

"But are you in trouble?'

"The Administrator is a damn moron," Dale muttered. "He shouldn't have put me in that situation. He flew in this morning from D.C. and insisted on having a D.E.A. presence at that press conference. I told him it was a bad idea to engage the press at all, but he told me my participation was a direct order. Then they start asking about _my_ sister-in-law. I don't like it. But he makes me answer."

Eric couldn't help but smile a little at the way Dale said _my_ sister-in-law, as if he'd come to develop a big-brother- like, protective fondness for Tami.

"I don't know why that reporter was trying to spin the story that way," Dale continued, "but the Administrator fed me right into the funnel."

"Why? What's his goal?" Eric asked.

"I don't know if he has a nephew who wants my job or he's just completely incompetent or what." Dale sighed heavily. "I guess he could dislike me because I slept with his wife."

"What?" Eric half shouted. Eric realized they had just recently begun reconnecting, and there was a lot he didn't know about Dale's life, but he could never imagine his brother sleeping with a married woman.

"Well she wasn't his wife _then_, of course! It was a long time ago, when I lived in New York. Karen hadn't even met this moron yet."

"I thought the woman you dated in New York was named Janet?"

"That's a different woman."

"I didn't realize you'd dated anyone else," Eric said.

"I was there for ten years."

"I know, but you said I had more notches on my belt than you did."

"Don't worry, Casanova. You're still at least one conquest ahead of me. And imagine if you hadn't gotten married at 20. You'd probably be dead by now."

"I was closer to 21. And I'm not trying to compete," Eric insisted. "I'm just trying to keep all this straight."

"Karen was before Janet. She was a fellow agent. We dated for ten months, tops, and then she got transferred to D.C., and so she ended it. She didn't want to do the long distance thing. She met him a year later. He wasn't Administrator yet."

"I don't know why he would resent you for that," Eric said. "I mean, if he hadn't even _met_ her yet. Unless she called out your name during sex or something."

Dale laughed. "I _am_ kind of unforgettable," he said.

Now Eric laughed, but the laughter only lightened the weight in his chest a little. "Seriously, how much trouble are you in?"

Dale sighed. "I'm being put on administrative leave pending an investigation of the shooting."

"How long?"

"Until they're done. I'm trying to look at it as a paid vacation."

"What is there to investigate?" Eric was there. He saw what happened. So did a dozen other people. Dale saved two women.

"I don't know. Some of this is routine. But if the Administrator is gunning for me for some reason, I might end up demoted or even lose my job. My hope is he's not gunning for me and he's just incompetent, which would put him right in line with the rest of the bureaucracy."

Eric couldn't help but feel guilty for this situation, even though it was completely beyond his control, and Dale had made his own choices. But Eric owed his brother his wife's life. "What if you _do_ lose your job?"

"Well then, brother…" Eric could almost hear the shrug in Dale's tone. "I'll get another one. That's not important. You know what _is_ important?"

"That my wife is alive," Eric said.

"And you're alive. And that other woman is alive. And she got to go home to her two kids. And I'm alive, and I get to marry Cleo in April."

**[FNL]**

So many of the Women Centers' clients cancelled appointments in the wake of the hostage situation, that the center was shut down and Tami was let go. There was talk of raising new funding and relocating the center in a year.

The media frenzy surrounding the hostage situation died in less than two weeks, when a gunfight broke out in a biker bar near the Stockyards and two people were killed.

"Maybe it's good we're moving to Dillon," Tami told Eric that night as he switched off the news that was playing on the small television that rested on the long dresser across from the bed. Tami had insisted she did not want a television in the bedroom, but somehow it had found its way there anyway. "I'm beginning to think this isn't the safest city in the world."

Eric set the remote on his night stand. "Good thing we live in a safe part of it, though, because July is still over five months away."

"When are we going to tell Julie we're moving?"

"Let's let her get past this dance recital first," Eric said. "And then the debate team competition."

"We can't keep putting it off forever, sugar."

"I know. How you feeling?" he asked.

"Good. My counselor's helping. Maybe you should talk to one too. It was a big…event."

"I'm fine." Eric jerked his head toward himself. She knew that meant he wanted her to scoot on over for a snuggle, and she did. He wrapped an arm around her waist and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I'll talk to you if I need to talk," he assured her. "Or Dale." He kissed the top of her head. "How did your interview go?"

The neighbor had told Tami that her son's high school was looking for a temporary guidance counselor to fill in for a woman who was going on maternity leave. The timing was perfect, because the job would end in late June.

"Pretty well I think. They offered me the job."

"What? That fast?"

"I start Monday." She lifted her head from his shoulder and smiled at him. "It's a middle-class high school, sugar, nice and safe."

Tami knew Eric wanted her to stay at home until they moved. When she mentioned she was going to apply for the temporary job, he'd hinted that there was going to be a lot of work to do around home to get the house on the market. _Good thing football season is over and you can help_, she'd told him.

But he didn't complain now. "Congratulations," he told her. "I'm impressed."

"I'm a little impressed myself. And maybe it's because I'm so proud of myself, but I'm horny." She could see him perk up at the word. She smiled. "You want to fool around?"

"Is that a rhetorical question?" he asked.

"Well I don't see you making a move."

He slid his arm out from her waist, grinned, and ducked under the sheet and cover. She laughed as he slid up her night shirt. She heard the muffled sound of his voice from beneath the covers. "Are you wearing my jersey again?"

"It's mine now," she said, and then she felt her panties jerked down to her ankles and slid straight off. He'd wormed himself down to the foot of the bed

He kissed the outside of her ankle and ordered, "Spread formation."

She let out a low chuckle and opened her legs for him.

He began with kisses on her lower leg before working his way slowly up to her inner thigh, where he teased her with nips and licks until she was squirming. With one arm, as he continued to tease her flesh, he pulled the covers off, maybe to see her better, or maybe just to breathe better.

"You looking for a hot receiver?" she asked as she tried to push his head where she wanted him. He resisted, slid back down her body again, and began the same torturous work on her other leg.

He took his time, working his way up deliberately, and eventually coming very close to her need, but refusing to touch it.

"Eric, sweetheart," Tami begged. "Stop controlling the clock. You've got to get to the goal."

"Patience," he murmured.

After teasing her a little longer, he flicked his tongue precisely where she wanted it, and she gasped. She plunged her fingers into his thick hair, gripped the strands, and closed her eyes. "There," she breathed. "God yes, Eric. Right there. _Please_."

Their love making came in quarters. They took some time-outs to talk and laugh and simply cuddle, but the score was even in the end.

Eventually, Tami drifted off to sleep in his arms.


	46. A Bad Habit

**Chapter 46**

"How in the hell did Tami get that job so fast?" Dale asked.

The brothers had retreated to the back porch and lit the fire pit after dinner. Dale joined them twice weekly now, since he was still on administrative leave. It was cold, but they'd buttoned up and tucked their hands into their coat pockets. Eric liked talking out here, and Dale seemed to as well. Somehow, the fire and the quiet and the evening sky leant themselves to open conversation.

"I don't know," Eric answered. "She heard about the opening, walked straight into the principal's office, and asked for an interview. She got the offer the same day."

"Was the principal a man by any chance?"

Eric shot him a warning look.

"You know that your wife is gorgeous. You're at least vaguely aware of that, aren't you?"

"Vaguely," Eric admitted. "But she's also good at what she does, and she's got a counseling degree. It's not like she just goes in there in a low-cut blouse and flashes her southern smile and - " He stopped. Come to think of it, her blouse had been rather flattering that morning (as it often was), and she probably _had_ flashed her southern smile (when didn't she?).

Dale chuckled. "Just because you're good at what you do doesn't mean you'll always be recognized for it. I should have learned to be more of a people pleaser like Tami. I wouldn't have lost my temper at that press conference."

"I wouldn't exactly call Tami a people pleaser. She can stir up trouble." Eric smiled. "Though she pleases me very much."

"I'll bet."

"How is the investigation going?" Eric asked. "They sure are drawing it out, aren't they?"

"Still crossing their t's and dotting their i's. I expect to be fully restored by February. But I've been thinking, maybe I should just step down."

"What? Why?"

"I have over 20 years in now, so I can take early retirement. I'll lose a portion of my pension if I don't stick it out to 25, but maybe it's time to get out and try something else. Maybe I _will_ just be a firearms instructor."

"Don't do that, Dale. Don't give your dreams because of this one hiccup." Eric couldn't imagine just quitting like that. Dale was at the height of his career. He had a prominent position.

"What dreams?" Dale asked. "You know what my biggest goal was in college, before life knocked me around, when I was still dreaming? You know what I wanted most?"

Eric shook his head.

"I wanted someone to love me. I just wanted to find someone who really wanted to be with me. Just me. For life." He smiled and turned his head slightly toward his brother. "Guess what I finally found?"

"You don't care about this position?" Eric asked. "I thought it was important to you."

"I took the position to increase my salary, enhance my reputation, build my network, and set myself up better for a post-retirement career, and because they wouldn't let me stay more than one more year in Cairo anyway. I had to go _somewhere_ soon, and since you were already living here…well, it made a lot of sense."

"But you want to leave the DEA entirely? Your job isn't a passion for you?" Eric couldn't imagine working over twenty years at a career that didn't fire him up.

"I've been passionate about it _at times_," Dale said. "And I think I've been _good_ at it. But overall? A passion?" He shrugged. "You know why I took a DEA job in the first place?"

Eric shook his head.

"There were three main reasons. One, it paid well and I had student loans. Two, I do love target shooting. I don't have quite the passion for it you do for football, but I love it. So I wanted a job where I could train with firearms."

"The third reason?"

Dale shifted his foot against the porch and slouched down in his chair. "I thought it would impress Dad. He was in law enforcement, so I thought…." He shrugged. "I was wrong."

Eric looked into the fire.

"I don't understand why he always felt the need to tear me down when I succeed," Dale said. "It was like he was in competition with me. Like he was jealous of my success. But then he always wanted you to out-succeed him, as if your success was his own."

"Well, what did your counselor say?" Eric asked. "You're seeing one, right?"

"He said Dad's reasons aren't relevant because I have to deal with the damage regardless of the motive. And he said I should call Dad and tell him how much his criticism hurt me and how badly I always wanted a deeper relationship with him, so that I could get some kind of closure."

"So _did_ you call him?"

Dale nodded.

"And?"

"It went about as poorly as you would expect," Dale said. "He said maybe he wasn't always the best father, but I should get over it, because I'm a grown man, and he didn't work to feed and clothe me for seventeen years so I could bitch to my therapist about how rough I had it growing up with a roof over his head."

"Damn," Eric muttered.

"But you know, I was glad I did it. I needed to get that off my chest. And my therapist is right. I don't want him to die and leave me thinking what if I _had_ extended an olive branch? What if he'd taken it? Now I've extended it, and he's slapped it down. So at least I know. And I don't have to have that regret."

Eric sighed. His breath floated out in a misty cloud.

"Thank God I had Uncle Joey before he moved from Midland, and you had Coach Rayburn, to be strong, positive male influences in our lives. Who would we be today if we didn't?"

"I don't know," Eric admitted. "And if I'd never had a big brother when I was little, to teach me things other than football? To play with me and encourage me? If it had just been Dad those first eight years?"

They were interrupted by the sliding of the glass door. Tami put a hand on Eric's shoulder and squeezed. "You boys want to come in for some pie?"

**[FNL]**

As Dale cut into the warm apple crisp at the dining room table, and Julie heaped her pie with extra ice cream, Tami asked him, "How is the house coming along?" Cleo had fallen in love with a model town house before returning to Egypt.

"They'll finish building sometime in May," Dale answered. "Cleo should be here the last week of March. She'll have to put up with the condo for a couple of months."

"Have you reserved a venue yet?" Tami asked him. "For the wedding?"

"Yeah, the rose garden at Fort Worth Botanical Gardens."

"Not the Dallas Arboretum?" Tami asked. "Didn't Cleo want the Arboretum?"

Eric shoveled pie into his mouth while Julie followed the conversation.

"It was fully booked," Dale told her. "Fort Worth Gardens are nice enough."

"Do you need help addressing and sending out the invitations?" Tami asked him. "I can help with that. This wedding is coming up pretty quickly, and Cleo's not here to handle the details. I'm happy to help."

"Did you talk to Cleo on the phone?" Dale asked. "Did she ask you to make sure I was doing my job?"

Tami chuckled and reached for her water glass. "Maybe," she admitted.

"Well I am," Dale said. "I've got nothing but time on my hands until the brass decides whether to fire me or pin a medal on me."

"I don't understand all this," Julie said. "You saved Mom. Why would you be in trouble for that?"

"The world is not always logical, Jules," Dale told her.

"Will you play checkers with me after dessert?" Julie asked.

"How about I teach you chess instead?" Dale answered. "I bet you'd be good at it." He turned to look at Eric. "I bet your dad would be good at it, but I never could persuade him to play when he was a kid."

"It's boring," Eric said. "Too much thinking. You have to contemplate every move, foresee what the other person is going to do, think several steps ahead."

"Kind of like coaching football, huh?" Dale asked.

"Football isn't boring," Eric insisted. "It's physical. And there are crowds cheering. And you have less time to think."

Dale looked at Julie while pointing to Eric with his spoon. "Speed chess. That's what I should have taught him."

Julie giggled.

**[FNL]**

Julie concentrated on the chess board. It was a lot to remember, all those pieces, and the different ways they moved. They were at the dining room table. Mom and Dad had left them alone to go to the living room.

"So," Dale said, "you still like that boy you told me about back in the fall?"

Julie moved her rook. "No. Turns out he likes Maria, and Maria likes him, so I decided not to like him anymore."

"You're a good friend." He nodded to her rook. "You don't want to move that there. Let's pretend you didn't take your hand off it yet."

Julie looked at the board and moved the piece back. She contemplated, and then moved her knight instead. She held her hand on the piece and looked at her uncle. He nodded, and she took her hand off.

"There are plenty other fish in the sea anyway," he told her. "Maybe you'll meet a nice boy in Dillon."

"Why Dillon?" Julie asked. "Where's Dillon?"

"Uh…" Uncle Dale seemed to be reeling for an explanation. "I meant Dallas."

"Why Dallas? Why would I meet a boy in Dallas?"

"Well, because I live there, and when we have the house, Cleo and I will have y'all over for dinner, and maybe you'll meet a nice boy in my neighborhood."

Julie narrowed her eyes at him. "What are you not telling me?" she asked. "Dillon…is that the Panthers?" She'd gone looking through her father's game tape one evening when one of her VHS tapes had gone missing again. She'd seen several for a team called the "Dillon Panthers." She hadn't thought much about it at the time, since Dad had lots of game tape. She thought maybe it was a team the Owls had played or were going to play next season or something. But now, she was beginning to put two and two together. "Is my dad already looking for another coaching job?"

**[FNL]**

Eric paused the game tape he was watching when Dale came into the living room, hands in his pants pockets, looking sheepish. Tami closed the file she'd taken home to look through.

"I…uh…." Dale said. "Julie's waiting for you in the dining room. I'm going to head on home. I…uh….I'm very, very sorry, but I forgot you hadn't told her, and I might have inadvertently mentioned Dillon."

"Damn it, Dale!" Eric shouted. "This is some kind of bad habit with you."

"I don't…I'm so sorry, I just – "

Tami interrupted him, "- It's okay, Dale. We had to tell her eventually anyway. Eric's been dragging his feet and I was getting tired of waiting for him to work up the courage." She stood up and looked at Eric. "So now we talk with our daughter."

Eric sighed and popped his recliner shut.

"Sorry," Dale muttered to him again as he headed for the front door.

Julie had her arms crossed and her face set in a scowl when they sat down at the table with her. Tami did the talking, with Eric interjecting only occasionally, to offer some not-well-received consolation, such as, "They have an Applebee's" and "there's a dance studio" and "you'll have less competition."

"Competition for what?" Julie asked. "You think I can't beat the competition here?"

"I….uh…."

"We just moved here last summer!" Julie shouted. "I finally have friends! I hate you!" Julie pushed back her chair, ran to her room, and slammed the door.

"Well that went even worse than I envisioned," Tami said.

"Should I go get the screwdriver?" Eric asked.

"Are you serious?"

"She slammed the door, Tami." They had a _no door slamming_ rule in the house. In December, Tami had told Julie if she slammed the door one more time, it was coming off the hinges.

"We're going to let this one go, Eric. And we're going to give her a night to cool down. And then we'll try talking to her again."


	47. Storytelling

**Chapter 47**

Dale was cleared in the investigation and reinstated in early February. After discussing the issue with Cleo over the phone, and reviewing how much he would likely lose in benefits, he decided to stick it out until full retirement. "I talked to my friend Damien who owns that range," Dale told Eric one night in the dining room, "and he said he'll hire me as an instructor when I retire."

The water went off in the kitchen, where Tami was doing dishes. Julie had retreated to her room to do homework.

"Does that pay well?" Eric asked. He couldn't imagine it did.

"No, but my retirement will replace some of my income, and Cleo's new job will pay well. She can continue to support me in the manner to which I've become accustomed."

Eric chuckled. He wondered how he would feel if Tami ever made more money than he did. They'd had nearly even salaries for only two of the many years they'd been married. Otherwise, she had always made less. It was hard to build her earning potential, he knew, when they were always moving for his job. "You have savings too, though, don't you, on top of the pension?" Eric had started a 403(b) his second year of teaching. He'd done his best to squirrel away what little he could, on a coaching stipend and a teacher's salary, with a family to support. He was proud of himself that he had almost $55,000 in that account now.

"Yeah," Dale said, "but my 401(k) only has about $480,000 in it."

"Screw you!"

Dale laughed. "You'll get there."

"When I'm 90," Eric muttered.

"When you start coaching college ball," Dale assured him. "They make a ton. You'll be my age then."

"I don't think anyone is offering me a college job anytime in the next ten years." Eric did hope to be head coach of the Panthers within four, though.

"Cleo thinks I should take all that money out of stocks and put it in bonds in case we have a big crash around the time I retire in 2007." Dale shook his head. "She's too conservative. She just doesn't get it. She says, what if the stock market loses almost half its value in 2008? Like that would ever happen."

Eric poured himself another glass of wine and offered the bottle to his brother. "Julie's barely spoken to me since she found out we're moving."

"Eric, I am so -"

"- Forget it," Eric said. "We had to tell her eventually. And she needs to know she doesn't get to make decisions for this family."

"You need to know she's just a little girl," Tami said from behind him, "and this is a big upset for her." She snatched up the bottle. "Thanks for leaving me _one glass_, boys." She took it with her and started to head back to the kitchen.

Eric grabbed her by the hand as she was retreating. She turned. "I _do_ know that, babe" he told her. "And I was thinking…maybe I need to take her on a daddy-daughter date this Friday."

"This Friday?" Tami asked.

"I think it would be a good idea, don't you? She's got that thing Saturday. Can't do it then."

"I actually do think it would be a good idea," Tami said. "You do that, sweetheart." She kissed the top of his head and disappeared into the kitchen with the wine bottle.

Dale was eyeing Eric with a smirk.

"What?" Eric asked.

"This Friday's Valentine's Day."

"Aw hell."

"Don't worry, she didn't seem upset. And I can entertain Tami for you." Dale sipped his wine. "I don't have a date."

Tami popped her head in through the open partition between the dining room and kitchen. She was now holding a glass of wine instead of the bottle. "I heard that, and I like that idea, Dale. Why don't you come on over here, and we'll get take-out while Julie and Eric are out."

Dale agreed and Tami announced she was going to work in the living room.

"You better get her a nice present," Dale warned Eric.

Eric sighed. "Don't flirt with her too much on Friday."

"How much is too much?"

"Any," Eric said. "Hey, just out of curiosity, how many girlfriends have you had?" He didn't feel like he'd gotten the full story from Dale on that one.

"Should I go get the tape measure? " Dale asked. "I could go ask Tami where the tape measure is if you want me to."

"I'm not trying to measure dicks here, Dale, I'm just interested in learning about your life."

"Good. Because you'd lose that contest."

Eric snorted.

"I was with Cindy a long time. Then I had the thing with Karen – she's the one who married the Administrator. Next I dated Emma for a year. She was an NYU French professor. I told you about Janet. And you know Cleo. That still puts me two conquests behind you, Don Juan." Dale pronounced it Don Joo-un.

"Who's _Don_ _Jew One_?" Eric asked.

"You know, that Byron poem, about the playboy? People use the term to -– "

"- I thought that was Don _Juan_."

"Well, the English pronounce it joo-un. And that's how it rhymes in the poem."

"C'mon! Say it like a Texan, Dale. Don't be pretentious. Say Juan."

Dale laughed. "Is this why I got beat up so much in junior high?" he asked.

"Probably," Eric answered with a smile. "So one year with the French professor, a little under a year with the Administrator's wife, and four with Janet. Was there anyone else in New York?" Eric was trying to imagine not having sex for four years out of ten. He thought that kind of pent-up, frustrated energy would kill him.

"I'll tell you this one story." Dale had a story-telling voice that was different from his ordinary tone. "Between when Emma broke up with me and when I started dating Janet – there was an incident."

"An incident?" Eric asked.

"This new agent transferred in to the New York office. She was pretty and seemed interested, so I asked to take her out to dinner after work one evening. We go out right after work and have a pretty good time. And I'm driving her back to the office so she can get her car. I'm thinking I'll walk her to her car when we get in the garage, maybe I'll get a kiss. Maybe we'll even make out a little if I'm lucky. But she says – Where are you going? And I say – don't you need to get your car? And she says – Why don't I just stay with you tonight?"

"So you could watch TV?" Eric ribbed him.

"Well, even I could interpret this one, because she put her hand on my thigh when she asked it. And when I say my thigh, I'm using the biblical euphemism."

"You mean she put it right on…._Really_?"

"Like you've never had that happen."

"In college, yeah. At a party. But that was _college_." It had shocked Eric even then, and he couldn't act on it, because he was going steady with Tami. "You mean grown women do that? Grown women with careers?"

"This one did."

Eric peered at his brother. "Wait a minute. You said Penthouse letters never happen to you."

"Well, they don't, not usually. And, honestly, I don't like it when women are seriously forward. Cleo was forward, but…."

"…She had to be. Because you're an idiot."

"Basically," Dale said. "And she gave me plenty of time to woo her first."

"Six months," Eric reminded him with a smirk.

"Yes. This woman didn't even give me six hours."

"So you turned her down?" Eric asked.

"Oh, no. I took her to bed of course."

Eric laughed.

"Brother, I hadn't had sex in almost a year. And she had her hand on my…you know."

"A'right. I just thought Mr. Purity was not _into_ one night stands."

"I didn't think it would be just one night," Dale insisted. "We worked together. We'd gone out on a date. I hoped and assumed there would be many more dates."

"Were there?"

"Six. And every time she wanted to go back to my apartment after. Finally, the seventh time, I say, why don't we go to your place for a change? And she said –" He stopped and leaned a little closer across the table. "Are you ready for this, Eric?"

"I don't think I'm ever ready for your stories, Dale."

"She said – because my husband's there."

"_What ! ? _"

Dale leaned away from Eric's shocked shout. "I did _not_ know. She didn't wear any rings. She didn't mention a husband until that moment. No one told me she was married. So I'm driving the car after we've gone to dinner, and she's sitting there in the passenger seat with her hand on my thigh – my actual thigh this time – and telling me about her husband being at her place, and I say, what? You're married? And she says – yes. Very casually. As if the fact is largely irrelevant. So I say – I think that's a bit of information you should tell a guy as soon as he asks you out."

"Damn!" Eric exclaimed.

"It gets worse."

"How can it get worse?"

"She says – don't worry about it, he doesn't mind, as long as we don't do it at our place. We can do it at yours."

"What?"

"Precisely what I said." Dale sipped his wine. "So she tells me they have an open marriage."

"What the hell is an open marriage?" Eric asked.

"It's a marriage where you each have sex with other people."

"That's not a marriage," Eric said. "A marriage is when you agree _not_ to have sex with other people. _Forsaking all others_. I remember that vow. Pretty damn clearly."

"It's a wide world out there, Eric. Their definition was not your definition."

"How in the hell can a man be a'right with another man sleeping with his wife?"

"I'm as baffled as you are, brother. So I told her I was not interested in being her sidepiece, and I took her back to the office garage and dropped her at her car. And that was the end of that."

"Damn, Dale!"

"I got an STD test, just in case."

"She give you anything?"

Dale shook his head. "I used condoms, but you never know."

"_You_ never know," Eric said, and they both laughed.

"I felt really guilty, even though I didn't know. And that kind of put me off of dating for a while," Dale admitted. "Until Janet. And I made sure we went to her place the first time. And I looked for any evidence of a husband."

"Damn, Dale." Eric shook his head. "How many of these stories do you have?"

"Oh, I have thousands of stories, but not many more that involve sex. Speaking of which – Tami's fine if we have strippers for the bachelor party, right?"

"What?"

"Well, brother, it's traditional, you know."

"I….I don't think….she's not going to want me to….I mean…it's your party and all…but…." He glanced nervously in the general direction of the living room.

Dale laughed, a deep, hearty laugh.

"Damn it, Dale! Don't startle me like that."

"If I had a stripper at my bachelor party, I wouldn't get laid by Cleo for a century. Besides, I always thought that sort of thing was pathetic."

"Your party will be pretty tame, right?" Eric asked hopefully.

"We're just going to a cigar and bourbon lounge downtown. I want to do it before Cleo gets here, but I know you're going up for spring training in Dillon that third week in March, so we'll have it the second. Mikey reserved us a private room. He'll come pick you up and bring you there. You can crash at my condo after. I'm within stumbling distance. I'm sure you won't be able to drive."

"How do you know this Mikey guy?" Eric had never met any of Dale's friends. He feared this was going to be an awkward party.

"We go way back. He worked with me in Miami until he quit the DEA. We'd gone to FLETC together. _And_ he was my roommate at UT for three years. Until he set the apartment on fire."

Eric laughed. "A'right. Tell me this one."

Dale shifted to story-telling voice. "So Cindy and I are watching TV in the living room, and I hear this sudden scream …."

"Let me guess," Eric said with a grin. "It gets worse?"

"It gets much worse."


	48. Candle Shopping

**A/N:** Please comment!

**Chapter 48**

Eric slid under the blankets fifteen minutes after Dale left. Tami had retired to read over an hour ago. She flipped a page in her book. He reached for the remote and pointed it at the TV without yet clicking the power button. "Are you mad at me?" he asked. "For suggesting the daddy-daughter date on Valentine's Day?"

"No. I think it's a good idea." She closed her book and lay it on the night stand. After plucking her reading glasses off her face, she folded them on top of the book. "And I'm looking forward to my date with Dale."

Eric held up a finger and made a no, no gesture. "Don't irritate me on purpose, Tami."

She chuckled. "I like to irritate you. You're cute when you're riled up."

He smiled. "Yeah?"

She plucked the remote out of his hand. "Maybe." She leaned over him to put it on his night stand, making sure he got a good peak at her cleavage as she did so.

When she was sitting back up again, he leaned over for a quick kiss. "Want to fool around?"

"I don't know," she teased. "Don't you want to watch TV?"

Eric snaked a hand under the covers and squeezed her left breast through her night shirt. "There's nothing on but hockey." He ran his thumb around her nipple and leaned forward to kiss her, but she pulled back.

"So you mean I at least rate higher than hockey?" she asked.

"Tami, you rate higher than all of the winter sports _combined_."

She laughed. "You're lucky you're so damn cute, Eric Taylor. It makes up for a lot." Tami pushed the blanket down to her waist, and his hand with it. She criss-crossed her arms, grabbed either corner of her shirt, and pulled it off in one fluid motion, shaking her hair loose as she did so. His eyes fell hungrily to her breasts. Eric bent his head and suckled one of them.

"Mhmmm…." she murmured, arching her back and toying with the hair just above his neck.

He slid a hand between her legs and pressed it to her panties. She shifted against his palm.

"You like this?" he asked before he flicked her nipple roughly with his tongue.

A bolt of pleasure shot through her. She clenched his hair in her fist. Her voice a shade husky, she said, "That makes up for a lot too. But you're going to need to do more penance than that."

Later, when both were satisfied and he was drifting off to sleep, Tami said, "I want candles."

"What?" he muttered, his eyes closed, his cheek pressed to the pillow, and one arm draped around her bare waist.

"For Valentine's Day. And not the cheap ones you get in the grocery store. Yankee candles."

"Yes, ma'am," he said with a yawn, and then he was asleep.

**[FNL]**

"Taylor," Dale answered.

"It's just me," Eric said. He leaned back in his desk chair and looked at the back of the closed classroom door. Next period was his free period, but now that he hadn't renewed his Owls contract, he wasn't much welcomed in the coaches' office, so he remained here. "I need to know something."

"I can't _really_ run background checks for you, Eric. It's against policy."

"Nah. I need to know what a yankee candle is. What kind of scents are yankee scents? You lived in New York for ten years. Do yankees have different scents than southerners?"

"Are you being deliberately obtuse?"

"No. Tami said she wanted yankee candles for Valentine's day." It was Thursday, which left him only this afternoon after school to shop. "I want to make sure I don't buy the wrong thing. What do you think that means? Like a Maine ocean scent or something?"

Dale chuckled. Then it sounded like someone came into his office and said something. Eric heard only muttering. "No," Dale replied to the mutterer. "He's just a dumb kid. Give him a good scare and then let him go. We have bigger fish to fry." More muttering and then, Dale's voice clearer now, "Eric, the Yankee Candle Company is a specific brand. They have an entire store. You haven't seen them? At the mall?"

Eric largely avoided the mall, but he had wife and a pre-teen daughter. Sometimes it was impossible to do so. "You mean the place with all the soaps and lotions and stuff too?"

"No, Bath and Body Works has its own candles. You need to go to the Yankee Candle store. Do you need me to go shopping with you?"

"Nah," Eric said. "I'll figure it out."

"I have to run out to Fort Worth today for a briefing anyway. I should be done by four. I can meet you at Hulen mall."

**[FNL]**

Eric's nose crinkled. "Smells like bleach," he said.

"Don't get her fresh linen scent," Dale told him. "Get her some bakery type smell."

"Cupcake?" Eric asked, twisting off a lid and sniffing. "Ugh. Too sweet."

"Try the sugar and spice," Dale suggested. "It shows you're thinking on a personal level, because she calls you sugar."

"I hated it the first few times she called me that," Eric said, sniffing the sugar and spice candle. It smelled like the evening before Thanksgiving, when Tami cooked the pies.

"You kind of like it now though, don't you?"

"I just like the sound of her voice when she's feeling affectionate toward me. I guess she could call me anything." Eric screwed the lid back on the candle. "Does Cleo call you anything?" He hadn't noticed if she had.

"Habibi. It's like...my dear. My darling. My baby." Dale smiled. "But lately, she's started to call me ya hobbi, which means my love." Dale waved his hand about the store. "So did Tami want jars or votives or tea candles or tumblers or tapers or what?"

Eric put the jar back down on the table. "Dale, is there something you're not telling me? You know, you don't have to live a lie with me."

Dale laughed. "You don't have to be gay to know how to buy gifts for a woman. You just have to want to get laid. Do you want to get laid on Valentine's Day, or don't you?"

Eric gazed around the store. "I have no idea what she wants," he admitted. "Every year I get her flowers and chocolates. Every single year. This is the first time she's ever asked for anything different."

Dale held a candle beneath Eric's nose. "Sniff," he commanded.

Eric reeled back. "Why would they sell that? It smells just like baby powder. Why would a woman want that?"

"_You_ want that," Dale told him. "Because the smell of baby powder makes women think of babies. And thinking of babies makes them think of the way babies are made. And thinking of the way babies are made makes them horny."

"Really?"

"Logical deduction," Dale said. He tapped the side of his forehead. "That's why I closed more cases in New York than any other agent."

Eric ended up selecting three candles in jars, two with glass lids and one with a metal lid, a bag full of little tiny flat candles in a circle shape that he knew Tami had put around the rim of the bath tub a few times, a box of the kind of tall, thin candles Tami used when she wanted a candle-lit dinner at home, and then a bunch of these short, plump candles that fit in a five-cup candelabra he also bought. He piled them all onto the checkout counter.

"That candelabra will attach nicely right to the bedroom wall," Dale assured him. "Illuminate Tami's form just the right amount."

"I don't like you thinking about my wife's form being illuminated _any_ amount," Eric said.

Dale chuckled.

Eric turned to the register just as the last item was being rung up. When the lady behind the counter told him the amount, he said, "Excuse me?"

She repeated the number.

"For candles?" he asked.

**[FNL]**

When Valentine's day rolled around, Tami seemed pleased with her gift, which Eric had arranged in a basket on the kitchen table after she'd gone to bed. She rewarded Eric with a lingering kiss that morning before they both left for work.

That evening, Eric took his daughter out to dinner at a vegetarian Indian restaurant, because a few days ago he'd overheard her talking to Tami about wanting to give up meat. He thought it showed a lot of restraint on his part that he hadn't told Julie how ridiculous an idea that was.

His daughter ate a little and then pushed the rest of her food around her plate. She hadn't even touched the bread basket.

"You don't like the nan?"

"It's called naan," Julie corrected him.

"It's good. I didn't expect it to be this good. That chickpea stuff was spicy, but it was good. You don't like the tofu curry? You haven't eaten much. This place got four stars."

She put her fork down. "I'm just not hungry."

"Look, I know you're mad at me. And if I could stay here and accomplish what I want to accomplish for this whole family, I would."

She crossed her arms over herself. "Can we just get the check?"

"Fine." He signaled the waitress and asked for the bill. When it had come back later with his credit card, he scrawled his signature angrily across the bottom. He yanked up the bag of leftovers from the table and walked to the car, Julie trailing him. They'd driven halfway home before he pulled into an empty church parking lot and threw his pick-up into park.

"What are we doing?" Julie asked.

"We're talking. Whether you want to or not."

"Fine," she said, and slumped back against the front passenger seat, arms crossed. "Talk."

"I love you. I know this move isn't going to be easy for you. I understand you're sad to be leaving behind your friends and your school. But your mother and I both believe this is in the best interest of our family in the long-term. And I hope that sooner, rather than later, you'll forgive me for the wrong you imagine I've done you. Because I sure would like to have my daughter back. She sure was fun to be around."

Julie looked out the window and said nothing.

He threw the pick-up back into drive and headed home.


	49. The Cool Uncle

**A/N:** I hope people don't mind that this is getting so long. I originally had about 40 chapters planned, but every time I go to edit a chapter before posting, I end up expanding and adding new scenes and creating additional chapters. I think there are still at least 10 chapters to go at this point. Please keep reading, enjoying, and _**commenting**_!

**Chapter 49**

When they got back home, Julie went straight to her room and slammed the door.

Dale and Tami were in the dining room, drinking wine and laughing.

"Why are the lights dimmed in here?" Eric flicked them back up to full brightness. "Why are candles lit?" He began to blow them out.

"Somebody has to romance your wife on Valentine's Day, Eric."

"I fully intend to romance my wife this weekend, but thank you, Dale, for thinking of her."

Tami turned back to Eric. "Dale got us the best wine! And I _needed_ it because I spent all afternoon after school helping my sister move her stuff into that sorry apartment."

Eric sat down in the chair next to her. "Is Shelley not in a safe part of town?"

"Aww…that's sweet, that you care about my sister's safety." Tami tilted her head toward him. "But she's in a safe part of town. She's just got this tiny efficiency, and more stuff than will fit in it, and she refuses to get rid of anything. How did it go with Julie?"

"Not well," Eric admitted. "You heard the door slam."

Dale stood. "Mind if I knock on her door and talk to her for a bit?"

"Be my guest," Eric said. "I don't see how it can help, though." When he was gone, Eric asked, "Really, what's with the candles?"

Tami giggled. "I just wanted to try out some of the new candles you gave me, sugar. They smell real nice."

"I intended that candelabra for the bedroom," he said. "Not for dinner with Dale."

"I like it on the dining room wall. Dale installed it nicely, don't you think?"

Eric grunted.

"I appreciate you being a good father," she said in her _I-adore-you_ voice. "That was sweet, taking Julie out, trying to talk with her."

Softened by her words, he couldn't help but smile. He bent his head and kissed her. She tasted bold and semi-sweet, like the wine. "Has my brother been flirting with you?" he asked.

"Dale? Noooo! Well…maybe just a little." She held her fingers slightly apart and giggled.

"Is this your first bottle?" It was still half full, and Dale had enjoyed at least one glass. Eric couldn't imagine her being this happy on a single glass of wine.

"It's our second." Tami turned her body sideways in her chair so she was fully facing him. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek, then his nose, then his lips, and finally his ear. "You have the cutest ear," she told him before raking his earlobe lightly through her teeth.

**[FNL]**

Julie was sitting cross legged on her bed, her journal open before her, pouring out her anger onto the page, when there was a knock at the door. Seriously? Dad couldn't just let it go? What was he going to do? Yell at her for slamming the door? Why couldn't he just let her be angry for a while? She'd go along with the move. It wasn't as if she had a choice, anyway. She never did. She never even had a say.

"Go away!"

"It's your uncle. Mind if I come in for a sec?"

Julie closed and locked her diary and shoved it in the drawer of her little night stand. She unlocked her door, and Uncle Dale strolled in. She sat back on her bed, while he pulled out her desk chair. When he sat down, he glanced around her room at all the music posters on the wall – Evanescence, Justin Timberlake, Dixie Chicks (she was taking that one down, because Mom had decided _she_ liked the Dixie Chicks, and it was so not cool to like the same music as your _Mom_), Pink, Boyz II Men...Julie prided herself in her _eclectic_ tastes. (She liked that word, _eclectic; _it was one of her vocabulary words this week). She feared for a moment that Uncle Dale was going to make fun of her for all the posters. Julie liked her uncle and secretly thought he was majorly cool, especially after he had saved Mom. She didn't want him laughing at her.

"I used to be in a rock band in college," he said. "We played at parties and festivals."

He was even cooler than she'd thought! "Really? Did the girls fall all over you?"

"Not really. Girls usually like the guitarist, or the lead singer, or the drummer. They don't usually go after the electric violinist." He nodded at the Evanescence poster. "There's a song on their new album that sounds really good covered on electric violin."

"You listen to their music?" Julie asked, wide eyed.

"I listen to all sorts of different music. I was a music minor in college."

"Mom said you were an art history minor."

"That too," Uncle Dale told her. "I double minored. I thought nothing would piss off my dad more than two completely useless artsy minors, coupled with a useless language major, and _no_ sports."

Julie giggled.

"Sometimes a kid just gets angry at their dad, right, and wants to lash back?"

She looked down at her bed. "Yeah."

"I had a lot of reasons to be mad at my dad. He didn't treat my mom well. He criticized her, you know, took her for granted. Not like your dad, I mean…he adores your mother and shows her respect and tries to nurture their marriage. My dad…he used to tear me down all the time. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him."

Julie looked up at him now. She didn't know grandpa well. She saw him maybe twice a year, once for a holiday, once for some other family reason. He gave her nice gifts, but he didn't talk to her much. He didn't really talk to Mom, either. He was polite to Mom when she spoke to him, but he never asked about her life. He talked to dad about football, and that was about it.

"He never went to my baseball games or my orchestra performances. Nothing like your dad. Even though he's really busy with the coaching, your dad gets to your dance recitals, your debate team competitions…and I bet he tells you he's proud of you too."

Julie shrugged. "Yeah."

"My dad never tried to get anywhere in his career on the police force. And when I was little, there were two years my mom supported me and him all by herself, working her ass off."

Julie giggled. Uncle Dale just said _ass_ in front of her. Mom always scolded dad if he dropped a damn or hell or ass in front of her.

"He'd been dropped from the AFL," Uncle Dale continued, "and he kept waiting around for the NFL to pick him up. He was too proud to humble himself and do anything else until they were in serious debt. _Your_ dad, on the other hand…when the NFL passed him over, he figured out what he had to do to support a family, to provide for your mom and for you. He got to work right away. And he's trying to work his way up in his career. Because he loves you. And he loves your mom. And he wants to give you the best he can give you in life. And you know, this job in Dillon, it's a chance for him to maybe be a head coach in just a few years, maybe when you're in high school, so he can make enough to start building a college fund for you. Because he loves you. You know that, right? That he loves you?"

Julie shrugged. "Sure. I _always_ know _that_. That's not the problem."

"I didn't always know that with my dad," Uncle Dale said. "I was never sure of that. I'm still not."

That must suck, Julie thought. How could you not know your own dad loved you? "I just…we've moved every two to three years since I was born. I don't understand why we can't just stay somewhere. Somewhere where I finally have the best friend ever."

"Maybe you'll find a new best friend in Dillon. Who knows, maybe you'll find the best boyfriend ever."

"I seriously doubt that," Julie said. "I bet all guys care about in Dillon is football. Not like here. Football's a big deal here, but it's not the _only_ deal. And I'm _never_ dating a football player."

"Why not?"

"They're so stuck up. And boring. All they talk about is football. And they all cheat on their girlfriends."

"Your dad didn't cheat on any of his girlfriends."

"How many did he have? I thought he just dated Mom."

"Uh…he mainly dated your mom. You know what, I don't like football players either. They used to shove me in my locker in 7th grade. One of them broke the bow to my violin in 10th grade. Then I joined the baseball team in 11th grade, and they left me alone, because at least I was playing a sport. Well, that and I challenged the QB to a plinking contest and humiliated him."

"A what?"

"Shooting cans with rifles. He thought he was so cool. He bragged about what a great shot he was. He only got 8 out of 12. I got all 8 out of 8, and then I said, this is too easy for me, why don't I move the other four back another 50 yards, and I got all of them too. After that the team kind of had a grudging admiration for me. But I bet there are guys in Dillon who aren't interest in football. Maybe you'll find a musician. Or an artist."

"An artist?" Julie snorted. "In Dillon?"

Uncle Dale shrugged. "You never know."


	50. Playing Around

**Chapter 50**

Eric loved it when Tami nipped or raked his earlobes. He didn't know why his ears were so sensitive, but she could get him going in no time at all. He turned his head and kissed her, slow, light kisses at first, but eventually he thrust his tongue in her mouth.

They made out there at the dining room table for a good five minutes, with nothing but kissing and facial caresses and fingers running through hair. For a moment, he felt like a teenager again, like he had when they were first dating. He had never been more excited by a girl, and the slow pace she insisted on taking back then was simultaneously thrilling and frustrating. In those days, he would drive home from their dates with an erection straining painfully against his zipper, just as it was now.

From the other side of the table came the sound of a throat clearing. Eric immediately stopped kissing Tami and turned to see Dale and Julie standing there. Julie was rolling her eyes. "You'd think you guys were totally in high school," she said.

"Sorry," Tami apologized.

Eric didn't dare move from his current position, where he was shielded by the table.

"Anyway," Julie said. "I just wanted to say I love you, too, Dad, and I don't want to move, but I kind of get it. So I'll deal."

Eric blinked. He wasn't expecting this sudden reversal. "Thank you," he said. "I appreciate that, Monkey Noodle."

"I'm going to go read in my room until I go to sleep." She turned and walked down the hall.

"What the hell did you say to her?" Eric asked.

"That's between an uncle and his niece." Dale looked at Tami, who still had her arms draped around Eric's neck. "I think my work here is done. I'm going home to call Cleo. Enjoy your Valentine's." He winked at Eric. "And don't say I never helped a brother out."

**[FNL]**

Three minutes later, Eric was locking the bedroom door. He switched on the loud air purifier they used to drown out sound when they were sleeping or having sex. It whirred and hummed. He turned around to find Tami pulling off her panties from under her skirt and tossing them toward the closet. She missed by a long shot, giggled, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

He smiled. After twelve years of marriage and almost four years of dating, he knew all of her drinking conditions. He put her present condition at high buzzed, but not true drunk. True drunk was rare, and it wasn't much fun. He just ignored her come-ons when she was true drunk and tucked her in. Light buzz, on the other hand, could be fun. But _high buzz_ \- well, that was the most fun of all.

"You're not going to take advantage of me, are you, sugar?" she asked as he walked slowly to the bed and stood in front of her. "I've had a little bit to drink."

He slid his hands into the pockets of his khakis. His erection had faded after Dale and Julie interrupted them, but he could feel a renewed stirring now as he looked down at her beautiful, twinkling eyes and her full, red lips. "What advantage might that give me, Tami?"

She chuckled, and that smile that could melt his heart flashed out. "You're _cute_," she said. She leaned back, palms down on the bed behind herself, and ran her bare foot up the inside of his calf, against his pants. "My inhibitions are seriously lowered right now, Eric, so I think it gives you all kinds of advantages."

"Yeah? So you might do something you'd normally be too embarrassed to do?"

She was running her foot up his other calf now. "I might."

"You know, when I was putting away the laundry the other day…"

Usually, he just washed the clothes and transferred them to the dryer before telling Tami, _I did the laundry!_ She did all of the actual folding and ironing and hanging up and putting away. She claimed what he did was not, in fact, _doing the laundry_. She claimed it was just _pushing some buttons_. They'd even had a little spat about it, so last week he'd actually folded the clothes and put them away.

"Why are you talking about the laundry?" she asked. "Laundry isn't sexy."

"Well, while I was putting it away…I came across a little something in your underwear drawer. A little something I guess you must use when you miss me because I'm at conferences or at the too far away games."

Tami stopped leaning back and sat straight up. "You did _not_ find that."

"I did. Why don't I go get it and you show me how you use it?"

She flushed. "You want to watch me?"

His eyes raked over her, and he nodded. "You can pretend that I'm not even here."

"That might be too embarrassing for me, hon, even in my current state."

"Would you be less embarrassed if I blindfolded you and you didn't have to see me watching?"

Tami giggled, leaned forward, and dropped a little kiss just above his belt buckle. "Get your red silk tie."

**[FNL]**

Tami had been embarrassed at first, lying there on her back with her blouse unbuttoned, her skirt hiked up, and her legs open, knowing he was enjoying the show. Eventually, however, she became so caught up in the pleasure she was giving herself that she almost forgot Eric was there, until she heard the snap of his button and the rasp of his zipper. The nightstand drawer creaked open, followed by the pop of the top of the tube of KY. She had an urge to peek, but left his silk tie bound in place around her eyes. She forgot him again as her own pleasure mounted.

She forgot him, that was, until her toy was abruptly jerked away. He plunged into her just as the first wave of her orgasm was coming to a crest, and it broke violently around him. Tami cried out so loudly in shocked pleasure that she was afraid Julie would hear. She bit down on his shoulder to silence herself. The bite might have hurt Eric, if he had not been so lost in his own release. The long, masculine moan that filled her ears was even deeper and lower than usual, and she could feel the sheets tightening beneath her as he balled them in his fists. He was utterly overcome by that single powerful swell, but for her, the waves just kept rolling on and on, one over another.

**[FNL]**

The next morning Tami awoke to find a glass of water and two aspirin by her bedside. She drank the water, but she didn't take the aspirin. Her head, fortunately, was not aching. She picked up the folded piece of notepad paper beside the aspirin.

_Tami –_

_Thank you for my Valentine's present last night. And thank you for being my wife. I love you. _

_\- Me_

She showered and came to the kitchen to find Eric cooking breakfast. He'd made bacon and blueberry pancakes, and he was using the French press for the coffee. She loved a good, strong, French press coffee, but it was a pain to clean, so they rarely used it. He poured her a cup and kissed her.

As Tami, Julie, and Eric sat around the table enjoying breakfast, Julie said, "I wonder when I'm getting my phone."

"What phone?" Tami asked. She took another bite of pancake.

"Uncle Dale said if it's okay with you, he's going to get me my own cell phone so I can stay in touch with him and Maria and all of my friends when we move to Dillon. He said he'll get me one with a built in camera and that e-mails too!"

"They make phones that e-mail now?" Eric asked.

Julie rolled her eyes. "Yes, Dad. It's called a Blackberry."

"I don't know that you need a cell phone in sixth grade, Julie," Eric said.

"What? Why not?" Julie asked. "And I'll be in _seventh_ when we move."

"Your uncle is very generous," he said, "but I'm not sure we're willing to make the financial commitment of another monthly cell phone bill right now."

"Uncle Dale said he'll pay for the plan for the entire first year."

"Well," Eric told her, "your mother and I will have to discuss whether or not we're going to accept that."

"What?" Julie cried. "Why wouldn't you? It's free! Why do you care?"

Eric shot her a scolding look.

Julie looked down at her pancakes, "Sorry," she muttered, and changed her tone of voice when she looked up again. "Please, Dad?" she asked with a radiant smile. Tami knew this approach. Julie had learned from her own mother that you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. "It really makes me feel better about moving to think I can stay in touch with my DFW friends so easily. I'd really be happy if you let uncle Dale give me the phone."

Eric looked at Tami, who nodded.

"Fine," Eric said. "But my phone doesn't have e-mail. My phone doesn't even have a camera."

"Did your uncle Dale promise you anything else?" Tami asked.

"He said his new house is going to have three bedrooms, so we can visit in the summer and I can see Maria. And he says if it's okay with you and Dad, I could stay with him and Cleo for spring break next year, and he'll take me and Maria to Six Flags."

Tami chuckled and looked across the table at Eric. "Don't say Dale never helped a brother out."

**[FNL]**

Eric put an arm on the back of the couch behind Tami and his feet up on the coffee table. She slid over against his side and cuddled in for the romantic comedy they were about to watch now that Julie had retreated to her room. He felt a little tense, and she wasn't sure why.

"Did you like the candles?" he asked.

Tami paused the movie. "I did. I really like the scents you chose. And that candelabra was perfect."

"Well it's Dale you're impressed with then. He helped me pick."

Tami gave him an affectionate, almost teasing smile. "Honey…." she put a hand on his knee. "Does it bother you that I get along so well with Dale? You seem a little upset. I'd love it if you got along that well with my sister."

"No, you wouldn't. You wouldn't love it if you came home and Shelley and I were laughing in a candlelit room and drinking. You wouldn't like it if you had to ask Shelley what kind of beer you should buy me."

"So what do you want, Eric? You want me to avoid Dale like the plague, the way you do Shelley? You want me to be annoyed by him?"

"No," he said. "No. I want you to like him. I want you to get along with him."

"Then what's the problem?"

"I just want you to be impressed by _me_."

"Eric, sweetheart, why on earth would I have married you if I wasn't impressed by you?"

"We were young. We were still in high school when we started dating. We were still technically in college when we got married." They'd tied the knot four weeks before graduation. Neither of them wanted her to be showing on their wedding day. "I only impressed you compared to other _boys_. And I knocked you up, so you had that to deal with."

"Julie _is_ a lot to deal with sometimes."

"I just wonder…Say you were single today." He looked at her earnestly. "Say you were a single woman, the thirty-three-year-old gorgeous, independent guidance counselor Tami Hayes – hell, if not for me, you'd probably have a Ph.D. and own your own therapy practice by now, so let's say you were the gorgeous, independent, professional therapist, Dr. Tami Hayes, with a place of your own and a successful career, who could probably have any guy you wanted… and you met _me_. A man with a public school teacher's salary and a paltry coaching stipend, who only owns two suits, only speaks one language, drives an eight-year-old pickup truck, still listens to music from the 70s, has never lived outside of Texas, has never played a musical instrument, was a B/C student in high school and college, spends half his time watching game tape, and doesn't know what a Yankee candle is. Honestly, would you even want to _date_ me?"

"I'm not single, Eric," Tami said. "And I'm not Dr. Tami Hayes. _I'm_ Mrs. Tami Taylor. That's who I _am_." She faced him directly and put a hand on his hip. "We made each other who we are, sugar. We became who we are and got where we are _together_. You think I'd have a doctorate and own my own practice without you? Eric, I wouldn't even have graduated high school without you. Don't you remember I was about to drop out before we became friends? Before you encouraged me?"

"I…vaguely remember that."

"Can I let you in on a little secret, Eric? I've never lived outside of Texas either. I've never played a musical instrument. I only speak one language. I drive a seven-year-old sedan, and I'm a temp worker for the public school system. I don't know what I'd be looking for in a man if I was this hypothetical, childless, single, thirty-something Dr. Tami Hayes person, but I'm _not_ that person."

He looked into her eyes and listened as she continued to speak. "I don't want a man to date," she told him. "I want a _husband_. And I know precisely what _**I**_ want in a husband. And guess what? You're all of those things, sugar. You're handsome, reliable, faithful, affectionate, thoughtful, sober, frugal, moral …you have a strong conscience and strong family feeling. You're a loving father, a good son-in-law, a good brother. You make me laugh, you comfort me when I cry, you're considerate in bed, hard-working, determined, you - "

He kissed her. He put his hand on the back of her head and pressed his lips to hers with fervor. She opened her mouth against his. When they broke away to breathe, he moved his hand from her head to her cheek and leaned his forehead against hers. "I love you, Mrs. Tami Taylor. I've loved you since I was eighteen years old, and I'm going to love you until I'm 118."

Tami laughed.

"That was corny, wasn't it?" he asked. "And I'm probably not going to make it past 85."

"Can I let you in on another little secret?"

"What's that?" he asked.

"I _love_ the corny, sentimental things you say."


	51. Father What-a-Waste

**Chapter 51**

The bases were fully loaded. Eric sat in the second row on the hard bleachers, his sunglasses hiding his eyes from the early March sun, and watched Moss Gouda take a swing. The kid missed.

Eric felt a pang of embarrassment for the boy. Moss had struck out his first time up to bat, so when he now missed a second time, Eric winced. He almost didn't want to watch the third pitch. In fact, he didn't. He closed his eyes behind his sunglasses, but that was when he heard the loud crack as ball hit bat.

Eric's eyes flew open and followed the ball as it soared over the fence. He didn't see the guy on third running home, but he saw Moss pass second and then third and make his way home. Eric stood with the small crowd in the bleachers to clap. Decorum Academy had beat its competition, a mid-size public school, by 3.

Eric came down from the bleachers and leaned over the low chain link fence as Moss was heading out to the locker room. "Gouda," he hollered, and jerked his head in a gesture that called Moss over.

Moss jogged over with a smile. "Coach Taylor, what are you doing here?"

"Came to see you play, of course," he said. "I guess you picked it up pretty damn fast. You're a regular Bo Jacskson."

Moss grinned. "I think I was better at football."

"Another year with me, and you have no idea how good you would have been. I still wish I'd had a chance to coach you longer."

"But you're leaving, aren't you?"

Eric was surprised that rumor had spread to Moss, but he supposed the kid still had some friends at Oliver Loving. "Got a job in a town called Dillon. You want to get a coke or something after you change?"

They talked for an hour at an old-fashioned style soda fountain three miles from the school. Moss told Eric he and his long-distance girlfriend had broken up, because she was indeed cheating, and he was now dating another girl at the new school. "I don't think she's the one," he said. "But she's fun. And cute."

"You've got your whole life ahead of you. You don't need to find the one in high school, Moss."

"You did."

"That's rare. It was rare a generation ago and it's even more rare now. My brother didn't find his one until just recently. They're getting married in a couple weeks. He's forty-three."

"I saw the news," Moss said. "Your brother and the shooting and your wife. Is she okay?"

"She's fine."

"Your brother in trouble? They were asking him all sorts of questions, like…I don't know."

"He didn't do anything wrong," Eric said. "He was on administrative leave for a bit, but he was restored to his position. You thinking about colleges? Aggies have a good baseball team."

Moss laughed. "I'm thinking St. John's College."

"Never heard of it," Eric admitted.

"It's a private school in Maryland. It has a Great Books program. You take a core curriculum, read original sources and classics in all the liberal arts, and there's a lot of discussions."

"How's its baseball team?"

"They don't really have sports teams."

"What?" Eric asked. Whoever heard of a college without sports teams?

"They have a fencing club. I might take up fencing there. Or croquet."

"Croquet? Croquet is not a sport, son. Croquet is a lawn game."

"They have a crew club. And a sailing club."

Eric scratched his head. "No insult intended, but this sounds like a school for spoiled, east coast kids. You sure that's what you want?"

Moss laughed. "You forget I _am_ a spoiled, east coast kid. I grew up in the D.C. metro area, remember? And my dad is not lacking for money. It's the program that attracts me though. Great books. It's deep and broad at the same time and it's almost all papers and discussion instead of tests."

"Actually sounds like a school my brother would have loved." Dale never could have afforded such a thing back then. "What about baseball, though? I mean, you seem to have a talent there. It needs shaping, but it's there."

Moss shrugged. "I like trying different things. I'm not aspiring to be a college athlete, and certainly not a professional one. Almost no one ever makes the pros. You know that."

Eric looked into his now empty chocolate malt glass. He knew all right. He looked back at Moss. "But it's good to be a part of a team, don't you think? And don't you love being out there on that field?"

"Yeah. And guess what?" Moss smiled. "Girls like baseball players. Especially when there are no football players around."

**[FNL]**

"Dad," Julie said as she looked out the living room window. "There's a priest in a bright red convertible Mustang in the driveway."

"What?" Eric stood behind her and looked over her head out the window. She wasn't kidding. The priest was getting out of the car.

It was 7:45 PM on Friday. Dale's groomsman Mikey was supposed to pick Eric up at 8:00 PM to drive him to the bachelor's party in Dallas. It was still three weeks until the wedding, and Cleo was not yet in America, but the timing for the party had worked best this way.

"He's at the door now," Julie said.

Tami opened it on the first knock.

"Hello, there," the priest said to her. "I'm here to retrieve Eric Taylor?"

Eric walked hesitantly to the door. "You're Mikey?" he asked.

"Mikey, Mike, Michael, Father Mike, Father Michael, Father Mikey, whatever you want." He extended his hand. "Eric, I presume?" Eric nodded and they shook.

"I'm Eric's wife, Tami," Tami said. Eric was too dazed to introduce her. Dale had _**not**_ mentioned that the man organizing his bachelor's party was a priest. What kind of party was this going to be?

"Sorry for the uniform," Father Mike said. "I came straight from work so I wouldn't be late."

"You live nearby?" Tami asked.

"Waco. It's where I'm from originally. Less than an hour from here."

"I thought it was an hour and a half," Tami said.

"Not the way I drive."

"You have your bag, sugar," Tami asked Eric, "since you're staying at Dale's tonight?"

"Dale took it last week. It's at his place."

Tami kissed him on the cheek and he followed the priest to the convertible and hopped in the passenger side.

Father Michael started driving and said, "I need to stop by an adult toy store on the way. Do you know where the closest one is?"

"Uh….I…..no."

"That's all right. I'm sure they'll be billboards on the highway between here and Dallas. We'll find one."

Eric put his sunglasses on. The sun was setting, but he didn't want the priest to see the look in his eyes. "This is a nice car," Eric said. "For a priest."

"It's a rental."

"You _are_ a priest, right?"

"No," Dale's friend said. "I'm a male stripper. This is my costume."

Eric looked straight ahead at the road. The wind whipped through the open top.

Mikey laughed. "I'm kidding you. You think male strippers wear priest costumes? That's not what women want. They want firemen. Cowboys. Police men. Although…some of the women in my parish do call me Father What-a-waste. I think unavailability turns them on."

What Dale had told Eric about Mikey did not seem to comport with the priestly profession. "Are you the same guy who set Dale's apartment on fire because …" Eric thought it better not to complete that sentence.

"Because I was fooling around with a cheerleader while surrounded by twenty candles?"

"Dale said forty."

"Dale always exaggerates his stories. And, yes, that was me. But she was not putting on a show for me jumping naked on the bed and tumbling, if that's what Dale told you. That's not how those first candles got knocked over. She threw a pillow at me, and it landed on top of a bunch of them, caught right on fire. Maybe because some massage oil got on it."

"How long have you been a priest?"

"About ten years," he said as he pulled on the highway and began to raise the hood of the convertible. The whipping wind died. "You know, I used to work with Dale at the DEA. I was the one who told him about the application process. But I tell you what. You sure get religion fast when you're working deep undercover and you get found out and strapped to a chair and you have to wait until the head guy decides how slowly to kill you."

"Jesus," Eric muttered and then realized he'd taken the Lord's name in vain right in front of a priest. "Sorry."

"That's what I was saying. Jesus, Jesus, _Jesus_ get me out of this! My mother was a devout Catholic, and I was an altar boy, but I tossed all that when I went to college. I tell you what, though, I never prayed so deeply in my life as I did at that moment. And you know how the Lord answered my prayer?"

"How?"

"Guy decided just to slap me around a little before shooting me. He'd only punched me twice before he had a heart attack. And then, while the other two guys were trying to help him and figure out what to do, I got my legs the rest of the way loose – those weren't strapped too well - stood up in the chair – my arms were still strapped - ran backwards, and smashed through a window. The windows were blacked out, so they weren't worried about being seen in there. Place used to be a sketchy bar, but it was empty and up for lease."

"This is better than one of Dale's stories."

"Oh, Dale's got nothing on me. So I crash through the window, which was surprisingly easy to do, because it already had a hairline crack. Fortunately, there were occupied businesses on either side, and people on the street, and they weren't going to kill me at that point, with witnesses. But I promised God if I got out alive, I would dedicate my life to him somehow or another. So I started going back to church, eventually quit the DEA, and went to seminary."

Eric shook his head.

The priest took an exit onto a frontage road. Eric did not believe this was the right time to be getting off the highway. Dallas was still miles up the road. But then the priest pulled off the frontage, went down another road, and pulled into the parking lot of a white building bearing a large, black-letter sign that said, "Adult Store. XXX. Ladies and couples welcome." He put the mustang into park and said, "I told you there'd be a billboard."

Eric thought he had been joking about stopping at an adult toy store.

"Couples welcome," Father Mikey read. "So they won't be surprised by us."

"Uh…I uh….I think I'll just wait in the car."

"Suit yourself. I better take this off before I go in." He pulled his white collar out and tossed it in the back seat. "People can get so uncomfortable around priests." Then he pulled his black shirt over his head and tossed it too. He had a white t-shirt on underneath.

Eric sunk down into the seat of the car and prayed that no one he knew saw him here.

When the priest returned, he tossed a brown paper bag in Eric's direction. It landed right in his lap. Eric quickly put it on the floor between his feet and did not ask what it contained.

"This party is going to be a lot of fun," Father Mikey said as he started driving again. "You looking forward to this?"

"Ummm…."

"You know a lot of the people who are coming?"

"I don't even know how many people are coming."

"Just nine. You, me, Dale, three guys Dale and I both went to FLETC with - that's the academy - a guy from his current office I've never met, some guy he knows who owns a gun range around here – "

" - I met him," Eric said. "He let us shoot on New Year's."

"And some Dallas cop he's buddies with. We've got a nice room at the lounge. You like bourbon?"

"I'm more of a scotch man, but I like it well enough."

"I was supposed to be Dale's best man."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to step on any toes, but he asked and – "

" - No. I mean the first time. When he was going to marry Cindy."

"Ah."

"I never did like her all that much, but you don't tell your best friend that. I mean, she was clever. He's always liked smart women. But she struck me as a bit selfish from the start. Have you met this woman he's marrying now?"

Eric nodded.

"She good for him, you think?"

"I think so," Eric said. "She's definitely not selfish. She's leaving a lot behind for him."

The priest reached into the console and began to thumb through some CDs he had stacked there. "You like Metallica?" he asked.

"Uh…."

"Probably not. You look like more of a classic rock guy. He fumbled with a CD case in the console, pulled it out, and slid it in. Something that sounded like a chanted mass began. "Oh hell," Father Mike said. "I must have put one of the church recordings in that case by mistake."


	52. The Key to Marriage

**Chapter 52**

Eric leaned back in the leather chair and looked up at the ventilation system. The door to the private room was closed, and with all smoke blowing around, and having finished his first bourbon, he was already starting to feel a slight buzzing in his head.

"Everybody's here then?" Father Mikey asked. The priest had tried to enter the lounge in his black pants and white t-shirt, and they'd told him he was violating the dress code. Eric had given the priest his own blazer to put on over the t-shirt, since he had a button-down dress shirt underneath. The compromise was accepted. They'd been the first people there, but now there were nine men total. Some were standing beside high tables. Some were in arm chairs. They all had cigars and bourbon. Glasses were on the coffee table, on tables, and in hands. Dale was sitting directly across from Eric in another arm chair.

"It appears so," Dale said.

"Good, then I can give Dale his gift." Mikey rattled the brown paper bag he'd picked up at the adult toy store.

"Oh no," Dale said. "What's this?"

"Jimmy, Mark, and John will understand." Father Mikey reached in the bag, pulled out a pair of handcuffs that were covered in a hot pink, fuzzy, fine hair-like substance, and tossed them in Dale's lap. Jimmy, Mark, and John burst out laughing.

Dale chuckled, set his bourbon on the end table, and picked them up. "Where'd you find these?"

"I have my sources," Mikey said. "And I got you something else." He pulled a necklace out of his pocket. At the end of the necklace was a handcuff key.

"That's clever," Jimmy said. "That way Dale can't lose the key again."

"I feel like the rest of us need to hear this story," said Damien, who owned the range where Dale had taken Eric shooting on New Year's day.

"Dale, you want to tell it?" Mikey asked.

Dale shook his head and puffed his cigar.

"Then I have to." Mikey settled into an empty arm chair at the tail end of the coffee table.

Eric smiled. He'd begun to lose his sense of awkwardness and discomfort, and Damien was refilling his glass. This might not be so bad. Just cigars, bourbon, and a few men telling stories. He didn't even have to talk.

"Dale, me, Jimmy, Mark, and John – we all went to FLETC together," Father Mikey began. "Years and years ago. One weekend, Dale's girlfriend comes to visit him. She's in law school, and he's paying for their apartment in Miami already, and he's helping her out with her tuition, and he's paying down his college loans, so they don't have much money. They can't afford to get a hotel for the weekend. And women in the FLETC dorms are against the rules. But being the gentlemen that we are, we all ignore the fact that Cindy's there."

Jimmy interrupted, "Let me tell this part. We're in my dorm room, me and Mikey and John, playing some poker, and we start to hear this banging on the wall. And we think – damn, they're going at it good if the headboard is hitting the wall that hard. And then we realize it's Dale pounding with this fist on the wall, and he's shouting, _Jimmy, if you're in there, bring me a handcuff key_!"

John laughed around his cigar. He took the cigar out of his mouth and set it down in an ash tray. "So we _all_ go over there, of course," he said, picking up Jimmy's story, "because we know this is going to be a fantastic source of ridicule for the entire rest of the academy."

Eric looked across the coffee table at his brother, who shrugged casually, though his face was a bit red.

"The door's locked," John said. "So Mikey goes down the hall to Mark's room to get him, because Mark can pick locks like a pro."

"That sounds like a story too," said a DEA agent who worked with Dale in his current office.

"So I pick the lock," Mark resumed the story. "And we all go in."

"Because it really required all of you, didn't it?" Dale asked.

"It did," Mark said, laughing. "It really did. We didn't know what you might need."

"I just needed a damn handcuff key!" Dale shouted.

Everyone was laughing now, including even Eric.

"So there they are," Jimmy said now, "On the bed, Cindy with," he stepped forward and held up the handcuffs Mikey had given Dale, "cuffs that look exactly like this. She's got the cuff on one of her wrists, and the other cuff is locked onto the metal bar of the headboard – it's hard to describe these beds – but she couldn't get too far. Now Dale's pulled the sheet up nice and high with his free hand, so she's pretty well covered at this point, but we all know she's stark naked under that sheet. I say his _one free_ hand, because with his _issued_ handcuffs, he's also got one of his own wrists cuffed and the other locked to the other metal bar on the headboard."

"Damn, Dale!" Damien, the range owner, shouted. "You're just supposed to cuff her! Not her _and_ yourself!"

Dale held up a hand. "She wanted to try it that way. Who was I to tell her no? And I had the key right there on the night stand, right within reach. "

Eric couldn't help but wonder if Tami might be willing to try handcuffs. Sex between them was varied enough - it could be passionate or tender or fun - but it wasn't often kinky. He was completely content with what they shared - _more_ than content. Still, at the moment, he couldn't help but picture his wife handcuffed to their bed.

"What happened to the key?" Damien asked.

"That's the grand mystery," Dale said. "It must have somehow fallen off the night stand, but I couldn't find it. I looked everywhere I could within reach. I even dragged the bed a bit before I called out to Jimmy. I found the key two days later, _underneath_ the night stand."

There was a lot of laughing, more cigars cut and lit, more bourbon poured.

"Whatever happened with Cindy?" Jimmy asked. "Weren't you guys going to get married?"

"Didn't work out," Dale said.

"Well I never did like her all that much," Jimmy replied.

"Me either," John admitted.

"She kind had you by the balls," Mark agreed.

Dale looked at Mikey. "Did _you_ like her?"

Mikey shook his head.

"Why did none of you tell me this?" he asked.

"You wouldn't have heard us," Father Mikey said. "Love is blind. Especially when it's coming at you with a pair of headlights like she had."

There were snorts and guffaws and chuckles.

"Can you believe he's a priest now?" Dale asked.

"How can you do that?" Jimmy asked. "The celibacy thing? I mean at FLETC, you were chasing every tail in Glynco."

Mikey shrugged. "And what did it get me?"

"A lot of tail," Jimmy said.

"I was empty." Mikey spread his arms out at the men around the room. "And who needs women when I can still do this? I can still hang with y'all. Your love to me is wonderful, surpassing the love of women."

"What?" Jimmy asked.

"It's what David says to Jonathan," Father Mikey said. "In the Bible."

"I love you, Mikey," Dale told him. "I do, but your love does _not_ surpass the love of women. At least not of _my_ woman."

"So _your_ woman," John asked, "the one you're marrying - any good handcuff style stories to tell?"

Eric thought of Cleo coming to Dale's hotel room and Dale just turning on the TV. He snorted loudly. Dale shot him a warning look.

"Sounds like your brother has a good story," Jimmy said.

Dale's eyes were shooting daggers across the coffee table.

"Nah," Eric said. "I was still just laughing about the handcuffs."

Dale looked relieved. "Get my brother some more bourbon," he said.

Father Mikey stood behind Dale's chair. "It's time for the customary dispensing of advice."

"Is there such a custom?" Dale asked.

"There is when I'm running the party," Mikey said. "I can't contribute, since I've never been married, but all of you other men are married, yes?"

"Not me," Jimmy said. "Not anymore."

"Then perhaps you can offer some advice on how not to get divorced," Mikey said.

"Don't get married," Jimmy replied. "Barring that…don't introduce her to your brother."

Dale looked across the coffee table at Eric with a raised eyebrow. "Too late for that," Dale said. "Good thing my brother's madly in love with his own wife. And also not dishonorable."

"John," Father Mikey said, "You were already married when we were at FLETC. What was that? Almost 22 years ago? You must know something. What's the key to happiness in marriage?"

John smiled. "Lower your expectations."

There was a lot of knowing laughter. Eric laughed too, but he wasn't sure he quite agreed.

It was true he'd had to _change_ his expectations in the course of his relationship with Tami. For instance, he'd quickly learned Tami wasn't going to do _all_ of the cooking and cleaning and grocery shopping, the way his mother had. And he learned that sex wasn't going to be every single night or even every other night, as he had imagined it would be in their late teens.

He'd learned to alter his expectations, but he wouldn't exactly say he'd lowered them. In fact, Tami had exceeded his expectations in dozens of ways. Her love for him, her strong support in difficult times, her understanding, her quickness to forgive…all had sometimes left him feeling unsteady on his feet and a little unworthy. The marriage itself had been more than he ever imagined a marriage could be: a comfort, yes, and a prop, but more than a prop - a catapult that sent him soaring toward his goals. She could soothe his hurts, dress his wounds, kiss away his disappointments, and build him up when the world had knocked him down.

"Damien," Father Mike said. "How about you?"

"Don't stop wooing her," Damien said, "just because you've won her."

Eric found himself nodding and also wondering when he'd last brought Tami flowers on an ordinary weekday for no other reason than that he loved her.

Father Mike pointed to the Dallas cop. "How long have you been married?"

"Eight years."

"Advice!" the priest ordered.

"Uh…I have no…I guess…" He held up his bourbon glass. "Don't let the sun go down on your wrath!"

"Here! Here!" Father Mikey cheered, and clinked the cop's glass with his own. He drained the last of his bourbon and set the glass down on a table. Someone lifted a bottle to refill it for him, but he put his hand over the top. "I'm the designated driver," he said. "I'll be shuttling all y'all home, one by one throughout the night. That's it for me." He pointed to Mark next. "Advice!" he demanded.

"Don't try to fix her problems when she vents about things," Mark said. "Just listen. Even when the solution is frickin' obvious, just listen. You'll get laid more than if you try to fix it."

"Joshua?" Father Mikey asked, pointing to DEA agent at Dale's current office.

"Josh is fine," the man said. "And my advice would be….don't sweep shit under the rug. Because if you do, one day you'll trip over it and break your damn neck."

"I think that just leaves Dale's best man," Father Mikey said. "You give locker room speeches, so maybe you can manage more than a sentence."

Eric felt very much on the spot. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He cleared his throat. "Marriage is a beautiful thing," he said finally, "but it's not always an easy thing. Nothing worth anything in life is easy."

Eric turned his glass in a circle in his hand, trying to gather his thoughts. "Just know that bumps along the way are normal, and don't let them make you lose faith." Eric could see Dale, given his past history with women, doubting the solidity of his marriage when things got rough.

Dale was looking at him earnestly. He wasn't laughing, or even smiling. He was listening. His big brother, who had his first paper route when Eric was still in diapers, who had established a career when Eric was still daydreaming of life in the NFL, was listening to _him_.

"Stay on the path and find a way to get down that road together," Eric continued. "Marriage requires compromise and a willingness to listen. Not just to listen, but to hear." He looked into his empty bourbon glass. He watched the liquid pour in as Jimmy – or John – filled it for him. "It means always thinking about someone other than just yourself. It means giving up your life as you know it to gain a new life, a shared life, where…I know it's a cliché, but….where your joys are doubled and your sorrows are halved. It's worth it," Eric told Dale seriously, looking into his brother's eyes. "Marriage is worth the effort and the compromise and everything you give up for it. What you gain is so far beyond what you lose that…" He shook his head, unable to find the words he wanted. "I don't know Cleo well, but she strikes me as a smart, capable, strong woman, and she loves you. It's clear she does. And I'm so happy for you, Dale. I'm so happy you've found that for yourself."

The door to the private room opened, and an attractive woman came in wearing a tight, black, knee-length skirt and a white button-down blouse. John made a _woot_ sound while Jimmy shouted, "Yeah, baby, take it off!"

Eric felt a sudden panic. Dale had assured him there would be no strippers.


	53. Folding

**Chapter 53**

Tami had a particular feeling about strippers, a feeling that ran fairly deep. Eric didn't know if it was a hangover from the religious fervor of her one-time fundamentalist mother, a private feminist impulse of her own, a romantic notion, or what – but she'd drawn a serious line in the sand a week before he was supposed to have his own bachelor party during his senior year of college. She'd told him, point blank, that she would feel as if he'd "somehow, in some way, to some degree" cheated on her if he had strippers at his party.

"How in the hell is that anything like cheating?" Eric had asked.

"I didn't say it _was_. I said it would _feel_ that way to _me_."

"That's not logical," he'd told her.

"I didn't claim it was logical. Hey, I'm just telling you how I _feel, _Eric. You're free to do whatever you want with that information."

What he'd done with that information was tell his groomsmen (two football buddies and his first semester roommate) that he didn't really want a bachelor party, that he just wanted to go out for a few beers at the corner pub. "I'm too busy for anything wild," he'd told them, "I've got to get to work early in the morning." In a way, it was true. To save money for the coming baby, he was working two part-time jobs. He was still finishing college while also searching for a good post-graduation teaching and coaching job. He was exhausted.

After an hour of drinking at Eric's non-party bachelor's party, all three of his groomsmen had wanted to go to a strip club. Instead of telling them he didn't want to offend Tami, he feigned sickness and told them to "party on" without him. He was still too much a boy and too terrified of ridicule back then. He couldn't possibly admit that he valued Tami's approval more than he did the approval of his friends.

He was no longer afraid to admit how much his wife's good opinion meant to him, but he didn't like to seem rude or prudish either. How to extricate himself gracefully from this current situation? It had simply been sprung upon him. He couldn't just make a mad dash for the door. And who had hired this woman? Surely not the priest?

Eric was about to stand up when Father Mike shot out from around Dale's chair. "Shhh!" he yelled, waving at Jimmy and John. "She's just the _waitress_."

"Ooops," John said, "my mistake. Sorry, ma'am."

Jimmy made no apology and merely laughed.

Now that Father Mikey had made the correction, it was fairly obvious. The woman was pretty, and well endowed, but she wasn't precisely dressed the part, and now that Eric thought about it, he'd seen other women dressed in the same tight black skirt and white blouse ensemble when they'd first entered the lounge.

Father Mikey stepped up to the waitress. "My sincere apologies. Those two are already slightly inebriated."

"Are you the one who's in charge?" she asked, shooting a peeved look at Jimmy, who was still chuckling.

Father Mikey nodded.

"I'm going to be your waitress for the evening," she said. "Do you gentlemen need anything else right now?"

"I could use a lap dance," Jimmy answered.

"Do shut up, James," Father Mikey said. He half bowed to the waitress. He was tall, maybe 6'3", and she looked to be about 5'6". "Some waters and another bottle of the Buffalo Trace. Maybe a tray of something to nibble on…perhaps…"

"Sausages?" she suggested.

Jimmy burst out laughing. Father Mikey held a warning finger up to him. "Jimmy, if you make any innuendos about sausages, I am going to come over there, and we are going to settle this as Christ Jesus intended - with our fists." He leaned again toward the waitress and in a low voice said, "Once again, my sincere apologies for my friend."

She smiled, apparently appeased by his apologies. "Men get pretty drunk in a bourbon lounge. It's not as if I haven't experienced worse."

"Well you deserve better."

She glanced down at his ring finger, wrote something on her check pad, and tore it off and handed it to him before leaving the room.

"Why is she giving you the bill already?" Jimmy said. "We've barely got this party started."

"She didn't give me the bill," Father Mikey replied, turning the check toward him to show him. "She gave me her phone number."

Dale guffawed.

"Would you give me that?" Jimmy asked.

"Most certainly not," Mikey answered.

"Why not? It's not like _you're_ going to use it."

Mikey crumpled up the check and slid it into his black pants pocket. "Nor are _you_."

"When _is_ the stripper coming?" Jimmy asked.

"There isn't going to be any stripper," Dale told him.

"What? Why not? Come on!" Jimmy cried. "You're about to close the door on your freedom! Is it because Mikey's a priest now?"

"No," Dale said, "it's because I respect my fiancé's wishes on the matter."

Jimmy set down his empty bourbon glass. "I hope she's great in the sack if you aren't even allowed to _look_ at other women."

"Jimmy," Dale said, "don't make me send Mikey over there to settle this like Christ Jesus intended."

Jimmy laughed. "You _would_ send Mikey. You were the best shot at the academy but you were always mediocre in the mat room."

"Them's fighting words!" Dale announced as he stood up and slammed his bourbon on the coffee table. He walked toward Jimmy, his fists raised in a boxers' stance, as Jimmy walked toward him in the same fashion.

Eric felt a jolt of defensive adrenaline and was preparing to stand himself, not knowing where this was going to lead, when both Dale and Jimmy reached each other, laughed, and embraced.

"I love you, man," Jimmy said, slapping Dale's back.

"I love you too, Jimmy. No group would be complete without its resident asshole."

"Gentlemen, gentlemen," Father Mikey said. "All this hugging is unbecoming." Jimmy and Dale pulled apart. Father Mike reached into his pocket – the one he had not put the waitresses' number into, and pulled out a deck of cards. "How about some poker?"

"Sure," Dale said. "But not with _your_ deck."

"I never used a cheater's deck," Father Mikey insisted. "And I just bought this one today at the adult toy store."

"Now we're talking!" Jimmy stepped forward and snatched the deck from Father Mikey's hand. "How naked are the women on these cards?" He opened the deck and pulled out a few. He fanned them out in his hand and snorted. "Damn you, Mikey," he said, and tossed them on the coffee table.

Eric looked down at the scattered cards. They had the same icons as any normal deck, but every card was imprinted with a Bible verse.

**[FNL]**

"I fold," Eric said. He was done smoking cigars. More than two and he knew he would be nauseous. He was still sipping bourbon, however. They'd retreated to the conference table at the back of the private room to play poker. Who had conferences in a cigar and bourbon lounge, he wondered? Lawyers?

Father Mikey raised the pot.

Jimmy was the last one in. "What do you have?" Jimmy asked the priest. "Besides the waitress's number, I mean?" He studied Mikey over his cards. "I'm calling."

"Four verses from the Book of Kings," Mikey said, and laid out his Kings on the table.

"You know it's really sickening, Mikey," Jimmy said, "That you're cheating with a Biblical deck. Doesn't that somehow double the sin?"

"Y'all never would believe that I'm just _that_ _good_, would you? You know, I played professionally. For a year."

"Before you found Jesus?" Jimmy asked.

"Jesus found me."

The waitress came in and set down a bourbon in front of Father Mikey. "You'll like this one," she told him. "Taste it and see if you'd like to order a bottle for the room."

"I'm not sure how many more bottles we can take." He nodded to John, who was asleep at the end of the table, his face on the surface. "I'm the driver, so I'm not drinking, but I'll taste." He took a sip and rolled the bourbon on his tongue. "That _is_ good."

The waitress put a hand on his shoulder and leaned forward to point at the glass. "See how perfect the color is? That's a clue."

"You should know he's a Catholic priest, sweetheart," Jimmy said. "Since he's not telling you."

The waitress took her hand away and said, "Is that true?"

Father Mikey nodded.

"But there's one single man here," Jimmy assured her.

She looked around the table, scanning for rings, and her eyes settled on Eric, who was currently leaned back in his chair with his hands, not visible, on the arms. She smiled at him. "I'm surprised the second cutest guy in the room is single. Usually the good ones are taken."

Eric was pleased by the compliment, although he wondered why he was _second_ to Mikey. He was younger than Mikey. He didn't have any silver gray strands in his black hair, and he was almost as tall as the priest. "Sorry, not me," Eric said. He jerked a thumb toward Jimmy, who wiggled an eyebrow at her.

"No way in hell," she said, and the room burst out laughing.

The waitress plucked up the priest's half drunk glass of bourbon. She smiled at him. "Mind if I drink the rest of this if you're not going to?"

"Be my guest, if you're permitted to do so at work."

"Well, I get off in an hour anyway." She trailed her fingertips over his shoulder as she made her way out of the room.

Jimmy shook his head.

"What are you going to do after you retire?" Mark asked Dale as Father Mikey collected his chips from the center of the table. "Or are you staying on with the DEA now that you're a big man on campus?"

"I don't really like being a supervisor," Dale said. "Too much paperwork. I'm definitely banging out as soon as I hit 25. Damien and I are going into business together."

"He's going to invest in my range, and we're going to expand it," Damien said. "Keep part of it for recreational use, and part for training law enforcement. Dale's going to use all his contacts to try to get training contracts with various police forces and law enforcement agencies in the area, and he'll be the head instructor."

As Father Mikey dealt the next hand, Jimmy asked, "You looking to hire more instructors? I could use some post-retirement cash."

"You'd leave the gorgeous women of Los Angeles to move to Texas to work with me and Damien?" Dale asked.

"I don't know," Jimmy said, "Texas girls may not strut around in bikinis, but they aren't stuck up like L.A. girls. They'll bring a man a glass of ice tea, with a sweet southern smile. I could get used to that." He looked at Dale. "But what I really need is a non-American woman. Mark got himself a cute Chinese girl – "

"- She's Vietnamese," Mark interrupted him.

"- and now Dale's got himself an Egyptian. I bet she's submissive, huh?"

Dale chuckled. "Only in the bedroom, Jimmy," he said as he pulled his new cards to himself.

"She's not going to stay home and wait on you?" Jimmy asked.

"She has Ph.D. in linguistics. She's going to work as a translator for an international law firm while she looks for an associate professorship."

"You always did go for the brainy ones," Mark said. "Even when you moved to New York. Janet was a lawyer, right?"

Dale nodded.

"Why did you ever cut her loose?" Jimmy asked. "She was smokin' hot, and that was a sweet deal."

"She cut me loose," Dale said. "But it was just as well. The sex was wild, but it was also routine in a way. I could schedule it. Saturday. 11 PM. Sex with Janet. We never saw each other during the week. She didn't even want to talk on the phone. Too busy."

"God I would love an arrangement like that," Jimmy said. "Guaranteed sex every Saturday? No obligation but to take her to the theater or a cocktail party once a week?"

Eric would _not_ like an arrangement like that. Sex only once a week? No one to cheer you on when you coached, to cuddle and watch football with you on the couch, to wake up next to in the morning, to complain about your day to over the dinner table, to laugh with on the back porch over a bottle of wine? Now that Eric thought about it, he'd never lived alone. He'd left his parent's house, had a roommate that first year of college, and then he and Tami had moved in together. She'd flooded his life with warmth. He thought it would be awfully lonely, to come home to an empty apartment. Good thing he would _never_ have to do that.

"Do you still have Janet's number?" Jimmy asked. "Did you two stay friends?"

"We were never really _friends_ to begin with," Dale said. "And I don't think you're her type. She needs a man who knows what fork to use."

"I clean up real nice," Jimmy said. "I need a woman that will let me talk dirty to her, though. The last one I dated didn't like it. Does your new woman like it? Cleo?"

"Only when I do it in French," Dale said, and drew a card.

"How about your wife, Mark? She like it?"

"No," Mark said. "In fact, any talking at all during sex turns her off."

"How about yours, Eric?" Jimmy asked.

What Tami liked varied based upon her mood. There were times she wanted to make slow, tender love and be complimented with sweet words, times she wanted intense silence, times she wanted to horse around and laugh and joke while they did it, and times she wanted a quick, dirty screw. Even then, though, when she did want him to talk dirty, he had to avoid certain words. He'd learned what every one of those words was over time, and it had been over three years since he'd misspoken and turned her off. "She likes what she likes," he said, and folded his hand.

"This is the tamest bachelor's party I have ever been to in my life," Jimmy said, throwing his hand into the center of the table. "Let's play _I never_ and do shots."

"What the hell is I never?" Damien asked.

"I'm game," Mark said. "I'm getting tired of bourbon, though. What else does this place have?"


	54. I Never

**Chapter 54**

Father Mikey was taking the slumbering John to his downtown Dallas hotel, so there were only seven men seated in armchairs around the coffee table at the moment. A bottle of vodka and seven shot glasses rested on the table. Jimmy explained the rules of the game. Someone would say something they had never done, such as "I never learned to ride a bike." If you _had_ learned to ride a bike, you had to drink a shot. "But make it more interesting than bike riding," Jimmy insisted. He took the bottle of vodka the waitress had brought them and began filling the shot glasses. "Mikey's not here, so I know all you prudes are going to have to drink with this one." He put the vodka bottle down and announced, "In high school, I never had sex with fewer than three girls."

Everyone drank except Eric.

"At a time?" Eric asked incredulously.

"No!" Jimmy laughed. "I meant total of course! Now drink up."

"So if I can also say that I never had sex with _fewer_ than three girls _total,"_ Eric asked, "I don't drink, right?"

"We're talking in _high school_," Jimmy clarified. "Not college. Drink up."

"He can't," Dale said. "You could double that number, and he still couldn't drink. That's why he was confused and thought you meant at one time. Three sounded so paltry to him."

Jimmy looked at Eric in awe. "Can I touch the hem of your garment?" he asked. "Will your powers transfer to me?"

Eric chuckled.

"How many girls in college, then?" Jimmy asked. "Wait, how many at _one time_?"

"In college I had all the woman I could handle," Eric said, smiling.

Dale smirked. "You still do."

Jimmy grinned. "So you're saying I should look forward to meeting Mrs. Eric Taylor at the wedding?"

"You come anywhere near Mrs. Eric Taylor at the wedding," Eric said, grinning with pride in his wife and with happiness because he was actually having fun, "and I'll send Father Mikey over to settle things as Christ Jesus intended."

All of the guys laughed. Eric wasn't used to making men laugh. He made his _wife_ laugh, and sometimes he even made his daughter laugh, but he'd always been thought of as the serious one around his friends and co-workers.

"Okay, your turn, Damien," Jimmy said.

"Well I know you're _all_ drinking on this one," the range owner said. "I never had sex with _anyone_ but my wife."

Everyone drank except Joe, the Dallas cop.

"Really?" Dale asked.

"I was sixteen when we started dating," Joe said defensively.

It was Dale's turn. "Well, everyone's drinking on this one. I never lost my virginity until I was 19."

Everyone drank except Mark. "Don't tell anyone," Mark said. "I was a late bloomer like Dale."

Eric was seriously starting to feel the alcohol now. He'd had too much bourbon before the game even started. The room was beginning to move. Father Mikey appeared to enter the room almost sideways. He sat down on the arm of Dale's chair, since all of the armchairs were taken. "Anyone else need a ride home yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," Damien said, "but I'm getting there. We're playing _I never_. You in?"

"I take water shots," Father Mikey said, and stood, grabbed an empty bourbon glass, and filled it with an ounce of water.

"Well, you're up," Jimmy said.

"I've never had sex in the past eleven years."

"Screw you!" Dale said. "That's not a fair one!"

"I don't know," Mikey said. "All y'all are married except Jimmy. So somebody might not have to drink."

Joe laughed. "Some weeks it feels like that," he admitted.

"Do another one," Jimmy insisted.

"Very well." Father Mikey contemplated Dale. "Our goal should be to get Dale and no one else to drink. So...I never had sex in an elevator."

Dale, and no one else, drank.

"Were you going up while it was coming down?" Jimmy asked.

"It was stuck," Dale said, "for an hour."

"Who was this? Cindy?" Mark asked.

"Emma. She was an NYU French professor."

"Why does Mikey know about this and I not know about this?" Jimmy asked.

Dale smirked. "Mikey is my confessor."

"So, you guys just got stuck in an elevator," Jimmy asked, "and she couldn't resist you? What were you doing at NYU?"

"Nothing so exciting," Dale admitted. "We'd already been dating for two months at the time. I met her when I audited a class there. I needed a refresher. It was her class."

Joe was up next. "Man, I've got nothing. I married my high school sweetheart."

"So did Eric, apparently," Jimmy said. "And it sounds like he _still_ has stories to tell."

"Just try to think of something Dale has done, but none of us have done," Father Mikey advised Joe.

"I never rescued two women from a a hostage situation."

Dale drank. "Oh boy," he said. "Wowza." He blinked.

"Eric, you're up," Jimmy said, "and make it interesting this time. And get just Dale to drink."

Eric was too buzzed at the moment to worry about his brother's sensibilities. "I've never had a woman come up to my hotel room and tell me her air conditioner was broken," Eric said, "and then just turned on the TV."

Everyone laughed.

Dale flushed red.

Eric felt guilty.

But then Dale picked up his shot glass, raised it in his brother's direction, and said, "Touché."

**[FNL]**

Eric only vaguely remembered walking to Dale's condo from the cigar lounge. Mikey, he knew, had guided them, and it was possible Eric had put an arm around the priest's shoulder and told him that he loved him as David loved Jonathan. Eric remembered that the clock said 2 AM when he fell onto the living room couch, and he knew that it said 10 AM when he woke up still in his clothes.

As he was sitting up, he felt something on his arm. He lifted it up to find the pink fuzzy handcuffs dangling loosely around one wrist. At least the other cuff wasn't locked to anything. He tried to work it off but somehow ended up closing it tighter instead.

Eric looked up and saw Dale standing in the living room, also in his clothes from the previous night, his hair a wild mess, looking at the handcuffs. "How did that happen?" Dale asked.

"I don't know," Eric said.

"Mikey probably did it after you passed out."

"You have the key, right?"

Dale walked to the kitchen bar that opened onto the living room and opened a big pink box. "Mikey left us donuts." He glanced at the coffee pot on the bar. "And it looks like he set up the coffee." He turned it on. "And he left us giant bottles of water."

Eric needed food badly. He guzzled the water, ate donuts, and drank coffee at the kitchen bar with the handcuff still dangling from his wrist. "You do have the necklace with the key, right?" he asked as he ate.

"I don't know where the necklace is," Dale said.

"I can't go home to Tami with this on my wrist!"

"Why not?" Dale smirked.

"She's going to think you had strippers and that this was part of the show."

"No, she's not. She trusts you. And what the hell kind of shows have you been to where you got handcuffed by strippers?"

"Well, I don't know exactly what they do. Just get this off of me!"

Dale laughed. "Relax. I have several keys. I don't need the necklace. I'll go get my universal key in a minute."

There was a knock on the door. Dale went to answer. Eric heard Tami's voice and Dale saying, "You didn't have to come get him. I was going to bring him home for you."

Eric slid off the bar stool, sat back down on the couch, and shoved his handcuffed wrist under the throw pillow he'd slept on last night.

"Hey, sugar," Tami said as she came in and glanced at the jukebox and the pinball machine. "You ready to come on home?"

Eric looked desperately at Dale.

"Why don't you let him stay a little longer?" Dale suggested. "I wanted to do some wedding planning with him."

"Wedding planning?" Tami asked skeptically. "With Eric?"

"I'll bring him home later. It's Saturday. You don't need him, do you?"

"I do actually need him," Tami said. "I need him to help me re-paint the living room like he said he would last week. We've got to get the house ready to put on the market in June."

"You know what, I'll help you both do that tomorrow. I don't have to go into the office Sunday. I'll come over and help you paint. Let him stay a bit."

"I already drove all the way out here. Julie's already started taping the edges while I came out here. She's getting it all set up. Are you _that_ hung-over, sweetheart?"

Eric's head did hurt, but the donuts and coffee and water had helped.

Tami came and sat next to him on the couch. "How late did your party go?"

"Uh…pretty late."

"That's a pretty design," she said, and plucked up the throw pillow from off his wrist. She looked at the pillow for a second and then noticed his wrist. She set the pillow slowly and coolly on the coffee table. "You want to explain why you were hiding the handcuffs, sugar?"

"I'll go get one of my universal keys." Dale disappeared down the hall toward his bedroom.

"Babe," Eric said, "would you believe me if I told you the priest bought them at an adult toy store on the way to Dallas, and then he put them on me while I was sleeping?"

"No."

"Okay. Then I won't tell you that."

"They're very pink," Tami said. "And fuzzy." She took her cell phone out of her purse. "I got a new phone with a camera yesterday." She snapped a picture of him in the cuffs. "That's going in the memory book." She smiled and then laughed. "You have a good time, sugar?"

"I actually did," he admitted, grinning with relief that she seemed amused instead of upset. "I thought it would be awkward, but I had fun."

"As far as you can recall."

Dale returned and unlocked the cuffs for him.

Tami took the cuffs. "They're collecting props for the spring musical at the school where I work. They're doing West Side Story, and they might need handcuffs. Mind if I keep these, Dale? I'm sure you have plenty of your own."

Dale grinned and extended her the key. "Sure. Take this too. Be careful not to lose it."

As she was slipping the key and handcuffs into her purse, Dale winked at Eric.

Tami stood and draped the strap of the purse on her shoulder. "You ready to get going?" she asked Eric.

Trying to suppress an image of Tami cuffed to their bed, he rose to follow her.


	55. Spring Training

**Thank you to those who take the time to comment. Please continue to do so! **

**Chapter 55**

Eric got a substitute for his classes at Oliver Loving High and drove to Dillon to meet his fellow coaches, get acquainted with the team, and participate in spring training. It was his first taste of his new job, which would officially begin in August - at least, that's when they would start sending him paychecks. The work, obviously, had already begun.

During a break in training Wednesday morning, he retreated to a corner of the bleachers and called Tami. She answered her phone at her school in a pleasant but professional voice.

"Hey, babe," he asked. "You with a student?"

"No, I'm just reviewing files right now. I can talk for a minute."

"I miss you."

"I miss you too, sugar. How's it going?"

"Great. It looks like the varsity head coach is going to give me a long leash, and he even asked my opinion about who might be ready to move up. Jason is even bletter than he was when I last coached him. And there's this Riggins kid I'm going to make a full back. He's a little bit of a pain my ass, but I think he'll be good. He's still in 8th grade right now, but they let him come over for training, wanted me to see him. He'll be at Dillon in the fall."

"Did you have time to tour the two junior high schools?"

"Yeah. I did," he said. "I think we should look at houses zoned for South Dillon Junior High. More electives. More clubs. And the girls there dressed less like street walkers."

Tami chuckled, but he thought he had every right to make the comparison. The modern fashion trends alarmed him, as did the younger and younger ages at which they were being assumed. Tami hadn't started dressing to emphasize her assets until she was in high school, and what passed for a short skirt back then would probably be considered average now. If she had shown up to school popping out of her shirt - and he couldn't say she never had or that he'd never noticed - she would be sent to the principal's office and made to put on a school sweatshirt over it, even on the hottest day in May. Tami had learned to layer.

Eric sure hadn't minded girls dressing to attract his attention when he was in high school, but now that he was _teaching_ high school, and he had a daughter, he sometimes thought he wouldn't mind a return to 1920s-style bathing suits. Sometimes, he even thought his wife should consider dressing a little more modestly, at least when she went to work. There were days when she'd left the house and he'd thought, _There's suddenly going to be a lot more teenage boys who need counseling today._ He never told her that, of course. He liked the cleavage, the tight skirts, the hint of sex. He liked that other men envied him his wife. He just didn't like it when their eyes lingered on her.

"Cleo arrived today," Tami told him. "She and I are going dress fitting Saturday. You need to go in and get fitted for your tux next week."

"I know. You've told me that three times in the last two days, Tami."

There was a shrill whistle from the field. "You need to get back to work?" Tami asked.

"Yeah."

"I bet you look good in Dillon blue. Bet it sets off those eyes."

He smiled. He loved that she still dropped him small compliments after all these years. He rarely heard other wives openly praising their husbands. Maybe they did it in private, or maybe those men could go an entire day and only hear about what they'd done wrong. He didn't know, but he sensed he had it good. "I do miss you," he said. "You want me to bring you something?"

"From Dillon?" she chuckled. "What is Dillon known for?"

"Football."

"Then bring me a Panthers jersey. One of my own. I'm getting tired of you complaining when I wear your jerseys."

"You know I love it when you wear mine. I just want an excuse to take them off. But I'll get you one."

The whistle blew again. "On time is late, Coach Taylor," she told him.

He hung up after a hasty _I love you_ and returned to the field.

**[FNL]**

Eric woke up at 5 AM on Friday. He didn't have to be on the field until 8 AM, but last night he had stayed at Buddy Garrity's house instead of at the Streets', and the man had talked his ear off all evening. He needed some quiet, introversion time. Fortunately, the kids and Buddy and Buddy's wife (_Pam!_ Eric told himself. _Remember her name is Pam and not Pat!_) were still asleep.

He went outside to see if there was a newspaper. A kid that looked to be in 8th or 9th grade was riding his bike down the street and tossing them. Eric was glad to see kids still did that in Dillon. In Fort Worth, it was all truck delivery service now. The boy skidded to a stop on the sidewalk and extended the paper toward Eric, who walked the rest of the way across the lawn to take it.

"Didn't think I should toss it with you standing right there," the boy said.

"Good to see a hard working young man," Eric said. "You go to Dillon High?" What he really wanted to know was why this kid wasn't on his JV team. He was chucking those papers rather solidly. He was a bit skinny, to be sure, but enough chicken fried chicken and some targeted weight training would take care of that in time.

"No, sir. North Dillon Junior High. I'm only in 7th grade."

7th grade? Damn, the kids here in Dillon sure were mature. That Riggins kid had looked like a high school junior. Probably half the team had been redshirted. It was a parental habit these days to wait a year to start boys in kindergarten, so they'd be bigger and more competitive at football. A kid was eligible to play high school ball up to the age of 19. One day his innocent Julie was going to be going to school with horny, 18 and 19 year old boys who looked more like they belonged in college than in high school. He didn't like the thought of that.

"What's your name, son?"

"Matt Saracen."

"You play football over there? For the Bobcats?" Eric had introduced himself to the coaches of both junior high teams. They were the Panthers' training ground, after all.

"No, sir."

"What sport do you play?"

"I don't really have time for a sport," he said. "I'm taking pre-AP math, and I have the paper route, and I also mow lawns."

"Well you should make time for a sport, son. It'll look good on your college applications, if nothing else."

"I'll think about that, sir," Matt said as he put his foot to the pedal. "You have a nice day." He pushed off and whizzed down the street, tossing papers.

**[FNL]**

"You sure you don't want a little more?" Tami asked Cleo, raising the bottle of wine. They were sitting outside the Taylor's residence at the umbrella-shaded patio table. Cleo had consumed only one glass to Tami's two. They'd gone in for fittings this afternoon. Cleo had chosen flattering, simple yet elegant, short-sleeved, chocolate brown dresses for both her cousin and Tami. Cleo's cousin would not be flying in from California until a day before the wedding, so any fitting for her would have to be last minute.

"Maybe just half a glass more," Cleo told her. "But I warn you, I'm a lightweight."

"Dale is picking you up anyway," Tami reminded her. He'd taken Julie out cell phone shopping and for dinner. She poured Cleo four ounces.

Cleo murmured when she sipped the wine. She giggled and covered her mouth. "I can feel it already."

Tami didn't feel a thing herself. They'd had dinner less than an hour ago, after all. "Are you looking forward to married life with Dale?" she asked.

"I'm looking forward to going to bed with him every night," Cleo said. She laughed and nearly spluttered her wine. "That's not what I meant," she said. "I mean, we've been seeing one another for almost three years, but always we snuck around. I come from a very conservative culture and family. Extramarital sex is frowned upon. So is dating outside of my Church. So I never stayed the night with him in Cairo. Going to sleep with him and waking up with him every day…I'm looking forward to _that_."

"But not to the sex," Tami said with a light smile as she raised her glass of wine to her lips.

Cleo put her wine glass down. Tami could see the happy twinkle in her eye. The woman was indeed lightly buzzed. "Maybe that too. In Cairo, we only had the opportunity about once or twice a week. We'd pick the slowest days at work and go to his apartment for a long lunch break."

"One of the great things about being a married woman," Tami confided to her, "is that you have an almost unlimited supply of safe sex." Her supply had been cut off this week, but Eric would be home tomorrow. "You can have sex any time you want. _He_ can't, but _you_ can."

Cleo laughed. "Men do seem to have insatiable drives, don't they?"

"I know the cliché isn't true in every instance," Tami told her. "I've had a couple of girlfriends who feel deprived by their husbands, but…clichés arise for a reason. I swear, if it were up to Eric, we'd have sex three times a day, every day."

"My first husband would have too," Cleo said. "But unfortunately for me, it was a while before the sex was really good. We were both virgins when we got married, even though he was older. We were both learning."

"It takes a while," Tami agreed. "No one tells you that. All the books and movies make you think it's going to be spectacular the very first time." Losing her virginity had been painful, both physically and emotionally. She'd ended up feeling used and discarded, even though she knew it was her own foolish mistake to follow that boy into that bedroom. Still, sex hadn't gotten much better with her first real boyfriend, Tommy. He'd looked so sexy when he played the drums, but he was a poor lover. He rarely worried about what she wanted and didn't seem to care if she got hers as long as he got his.

Tami had started to think that sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be, that it was just a duty girls performed to keep their boyfriends. But Mo taught her to enjoy it. As arrogant as Mo was on the field, and as unfaithful as he turned out to be as a boyfriend, he was attentive between the sheets. Tommy had taught her what pleased him; Mo had taught her what pleased her. Tami had been a bit blinded by the satisfying sex, too blind to see that she and Mo were not truly compatible in other ways. She'd gone slower with Eric for that reason. She didn't want good sex to blind her to any major differences they might have. She wanted to know him deeply first, and know if there was anything to cement them together besides sex.

"Then, as soon as we – what is the idiom?" Cleo asked. "Caught the swing of it? I got pregnant. My boys were born only a year apart, and sex isn't as good during pregnancy."

Tami and Eric had enjoyed some pretty fantastic second trimester sex, when her hormones had gone crazy, but that last trimester…not so much. And then there had been the six week desert after Julie's birth. Eric had asked for the occasional blowjob to "tide him over" during that time, but she'd been so very tired, that she usually denied him. He'd counted down the days to the six week mark. Eric had the day circled on the wall calendar, with a happy face drawn in the middle. Their first time back in the saddle had been quick for him and unsatisfying for her. Sex had been infrequent for the next few months, compared to their pre-Julie years, and that had made Eric tense. She'd put out every three or four days, like clockwork, just to keep him from blowing a fuse, but it wasn't their best sex, and sometimes it was reluctant sex. On top of that was the responsibility of parenthood, Eric's first real job, and Tami's part-time counseling job. It wasn't their most glorious year as a married couple. They were more like hungry newlyweds now than they had been back then.

"But I enjoyed it with Dale the very first time," Cleo said. "Immensely." She laughed. "I can't believe I'm talking about this." She took another sip of wine.

"What's said on this patio stays on this patio," Tami assured her.

"I don't know if it was because I was no longer a virgin, or because we have…what did you call it? Chemistry?" When Tami nodded, she continued, "Or maybe it was because _I_ chose the moment. It wasn't dictated for me by a wedding date: here, on this day and this day only, you must have sex with this man for the first time."

Tami had chosen the moment with Eric too. With Tommy, she'd felt like she had to have sex or the relationship would be over. With Mo, she felt like she had to because she'd already been doing it with Tommy, so how could she give it up to Tommy and then deny Mo? It was an immature way of thinking, a way she would one day warn her own daughter against. With Eric, Tami had decided that she didn't have to have sex. There would be no automatic first downs. There was no number of dates, no amount of time, after which any sexual act became a requirement.

"My first husband was quite conventional," Cleo continued now, "in the bedroom. He didn't ask for much. He was satisfied with little."

Tami knew it wasn't easy for Eric to ask for anything out of the ordinary or to share his fantasies with her. That was why he always waited until she was buzzed to ask for something new. He imagined she said yes because her inhibitions were lowered by wine, but she probably would have said yes stone sober.

Cleo looked into her wine glass, which was now empty. "I hope Dale is fully satisfied by me. I've only ever been with one other man my entire life. And the women Dale's been with, I gather all of them were...experienced."

"Cleo, he loves you. And even more to the point, you love him. You could show up in a burlap sack and you'd satisfy him."

She chuckled. "The funny thing is, even though he's so much more experienced than I, initially, _I_ had to seduce _him_."

Tami smiled. "Really? I'd love to hear this story."

"Should you open another bottle first?" Cleo asked. "That's awful of me to ask, isn't it?"

"Consider this your bachelorette party, my friend," Tami told her. "Dale got a party, you should get one too, even if it's a bit smaller. You wait here. I'll get the wine."


	56. Corrupting Cleo

**Chapter 56**

When Tami had returned with another bottle and poured Cleo a glass, Cleo said, "I was certain Dale was interested in me. He would flirt shamelessly – in a charming way, nothing at all crass about it, but I thought his attraction was obvious. And he was always finding an excuse to touch me in some small way. Every day, he had his hand somewhere – on my shoulder, on the small of my back, guiding my hands at the range – always something. I kept waiting for him to try to kiss me, but he never did. This went on for six months."

"Six months!"

"It was almost like a traditional courtship in my culture, but he was an American, and I was baffled as to why he wasn't making a move. I thought perhaps, because he knew his assignment in Cairo could only be temporary, and because he knew I was Orthodox and had been with only my husband, he had decided it would be dishonorable to seduce me. So one night, while we were working together out of town and staying in the same hotel, I simply came to his bedroom."

Tami's eyes twinkled. She lifted her wine glass and sipped.

"I hadn't been with a man since my husband died, and I was so deeply attracted to Dale. It was very much against my upbringing to do what I did, but…" She laughed. "What can I say? I wanted him." She told Tami the story Dale had told Eric, from her own perspective. "So, thinking I'd been a fool and misinterpreted his attraction to me, I began to walk out the door, when he bluntly shouted – _I want to have sex with you!_"

"Dale? Did that?" Tami asked. "He must have been completely smitten with you to stumble over himself that way."

"Perhaps I sensed that," Cleo said, "because it didn't at all offend me. Instead, I felt this wave of affection for him. But he didn't have any condoms. So it was not to be that night."

"I want to hear about your first time, then. Now that I've got a half a bottle of wine in you."

Cleo looked hesitant. She smiled impishly. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

"My first time, or my first time with Eric?"

"With Eric."

"Good, because the other one is a horror story." Tami topped off her glass and then Cleo's. "Eric had already told me he loved me before then. My sister told me he was just saying that to get laid, but – "

"- Get laid?" Cleo asked. "I don't know this idiom."

"To seduce me." Cleo nodded and Tami continued. "But I didn't think so. If he'd only wanted to get laid,"

Cleo giggled. "_Get laid_. Because you're lying down when you have sex? Is that the origin?"

"I guess so."

"_Get laid_," Cleo repeated, and giggled again. She sipped her wine. "I should have known that one. I've studied languages for years. Of course, English is my third language. Sorry, please continue."

"If he'd only wanted to _get laid_," now Tami chuckled, "he had plenty of willing girls to turn to, but he was faithful to me, and he was surprisingly patient. I know he wasn't used to waiting that long. I'm not saying he didn't try, but whenever I told him no, or moved his hand, he stopped immediately, and he didn't make me feel guilty."

Tommy had called her a _tease_. Mo had begged _pretty please, with a cherry on top? _But Eric silently obeyed the traffic signals. He never saw a red light as a reason to take her home early, either. He just shifted gears.

"I take it his patience paid off?" Cleo asked.

"His patience and his persistence."

If Tami put the brakes on something, Eric didn't complain, but he always tried it again on the next date. Tami let him get just a tiny bit further each time. When she finally let him claim her completely, it was because she trusted him to continue the relationship when he went away to A&amp;M. The first time she'd had sex with Mo, it had been physically satisfying. Her first time with Eric had been physically fulfilling, too, but it had been so much more. It wasn't just her body that was satisfied by the union, but her heart. She'd never known sex could be that powerful.

"It was the night of our high school graduation, in late May," Tami told Cleo. "We were both feeling a mixture of pride and sadness. I was proud I managed to graduate. I'd almost dropped out."

"You? But you seem so bright!"

"It's a long story. I was capable of more, but I wrecked my grades my first two and a half years. Eric was proud of me for the work I'd done to make it out of high school, and I was proud of him for his full scholarship to A&amp;M. But we were also sad, because we were closing a chapter, and we knew we had a long distance relationship ahead of us, that the coming summer would be our last time in the same town for a long while."

"Sounds like the perfect moment."

"It was. I told him I was ready the day before, so he knew it was happening. We went camping in an alcove near the lake. I told my mother I was at the school-sponsored, all-night graduation party. His father never cared what he was up to with girls. I won't go into details…but it was beautiful."

_They put up a tent, for privacy, in case anyone were to stumble on their secret alcove. Eric made a fire, and they roasted hot dogs and marshmallows. Tami's mother had told her never to swim after eating, but she'd also told her never to look at a boy with lust in her eyes. They waded into the lake in swimsuits and frolicked, splashing water at one another, kissing, nipping, and petting until both were fully aroused. They came ashore, left their suits by the fire, and disappeared into the tent. Eric turned on a lantern flashlight. _

_Tami sat on the unzipped, stretched out sleeping bag and admired Eric's backside while he zipped up the flap of the tent. She saw that, atop his backpack, there lay four condom packages. She laughed. "Four," she said, "you're expecting a lot." The joking alleviated her nervousness a little. She didn't know why she was so nervous. She'd had sex before with other guys. _

_He came and lay beside her on the sleeping bag, his head propped up on one elbow, completely unabashed in his nakedness, as though he was used to walking around girls naked and aroused, and perhaps he was. She, however, could feel a faint blush on her own bare flesh. _

"_In case there's a problem with one," he said. "And I thought, in the morning also…."_

_He reached up and fondled her breasts lightly. "Lie beside me," he said, and she slid down from her sitting position until they were face to face. _

_He draped an arm around her waist and, tasting sweetly of marshmallows, kissed her lips. He had the softest lips of any boy she'd ever kissed, and she thought she could let him kiss her for hours. But she could feel his hardness against her leg, and she knew he need only shift a little…._

"_I've wanted this for a long time," he said, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "But I promise I'll be gentle."_

"_You know I'm no virgin, Eric."_

"_You are tonight," he told her. _

_Her nervousness was eclipsed by excitement and by the thrill of his lips exploring her body. He was gentle, but also intense. He eased into her ever so slowly, and took her with firm, deliberate thrusts that gradually increased in pace, at least until she whimpered, "Eric, I want you. Oh God, I want you…Oh God...Please...You're about to make me come._ _Eric, please, baby, make me come,__" which was when he lost control. He found his release mere seconds after she did. _

"In the heat of the moment," Tami told Cleo, "toward the end, he shouted something that really stunned me."

"Something vulgar?" Cleo asked.

"No. That probably wouldn't have stunned me," Tami said. She laughed. "He shouted _Marry me_!"

"Truly?" Cleo said, eyes wide. "That's when and how he proposed?"

"No," Tami said. "It wasn't a proposal."

_After groaning out those two words, Eric rolled off of her onto his side. He slid off the condom and threw it into a plastic bag they were using for trash, and then he rolled again onto his back and stared straight up through the skylight of the tent. He was still breathing heavily, but he didn't say a word._

_Tami lay there, stunned, looking up at the starlight softly seeping through the plastic skylight, wondering if he'd truly cried out what she heard. _'_Did….did you just say marry me?' she asked finally._

'_I didn't mean it,' he said. 'I didn't mean to say it. I don't know why I did.'_

'_It's okay,' she said, feeling a little hurt. It wasn't that she felt at all ready for marriage; it was just that she didn't like how hastily he backpedaled. 'We can pretend you didn't say it, Eric.'_

'_I love you, Tami. But we have college. I'm not going to propose until we're seniors.'_

'_Okay.' Did that mean he'd already decided to propose when they were seniors? Tami didn't ask, and he didn't mention marriage again for another full year, when he began to say things like – 'if we get married, _" _

_A year later, it was "when we get married, _' _

_Then, when his football stats declined and it became clear the NFL probably wasn't going to draft him, he completely stopped talking about marriage, until she told him she was pregnant, and he formally proposed._

"It must have been a very meaningful, almost spiritual sort of sex," Cleo said, "To overcome him like that. To make him shout that." She laughed. "My first time with Dale was considerably more animalistic. But I think I needed that. All those months of flirting with him…all of the tension building up…and then the years I'd gone without sex after my husband died." She looked in her wine glass, which was now nearly empty. "This is why we are taught not to drink."

"Well while you're being decadent, tell me the rest of the story."

"The part of Egypt we were in that night I came to Dale's hotel room…condoms were difficult to obtain. You have to go to a pharmacy. Dale went to one the next day, and they refused to sell them to him, because he had no wedding ring. So we didn't consummate our relationship there. We returned to work in Cairo, and he was busy with a case that did not require my services. I was busy doing some other work for the DEA. It was a week before we had time for one another again. That work day, he asked me if I wanted to have lunch at his apartment, because he had leftovers he needed to be rid of."

"Were there any leftovers?" Tami asked.

"No. We just had dessert." Cleo finished her glass of wine, reached for the bottle, and refilled it herself. "Dale's an interesting creature," she said, her dark, feminine eyes lit with a warm light. "He's so easy going in everyday life. He's affable and affectionate with people, self-deprecating and deferential. But in the field, he's so different. He's aggressive. Assertive, serious, and supremely confident. He's also authoritative." Her lips curved into a suggestive smile. "Dominant. So I didn't know which of those two sides I was going to get in the bedroom."

"And which did you get?" Tami asked.

"It turns out I can have whichever side I prefer, whenever I prefer it. But that first time…we didn't even make it to the bedroom. We didn't make it past the foyer. Once he knew I wanted him…." She laughed and took a big sip of wine. "This is good!"

"I didn't intend to corrupt you," Tami promised her.

Cleo proceeded to drain half the glass. "This is the devil's drink for sure," she said. "I'm almost ready to tell you about Dale's handcuff collection."

"I've always wanted to try handcuffs," Tami confessed. She didn't think Cleo would recall much of this conversation in the morning anyway. "But I was looking at our bed the other day, and I don't see how he could possibly cuff me to it. We don't have that kind of frame."

"It doesn't have to be the bed," Cleo told her. "Look around the bedroom, the bathroom, the kitchen...you'll find something that works. And it doesn't have to be you," Cleo said. "It could be _him_."

"What could be him?" arose Dale's voice from beside the table. Tami jumped a bit and very much hoped he had only overheard that last line. She hadn't heard the gate or the sliding glass door open or noticed him approaching. But he wasn't smirking, so she was pretty sure he hadn't caught much.

Cleo turned sideways in her chair and put a hand on his hip. "I'm so glad you're here, habibi! Because I want to _get laid_." She looked across the table at Tami. "Did I say that right?'

Tami smiled and covered her mouth to hide her laughter.

"What?" Dale looked at the two bottles on the table, one empty and one almost empty, looked at Tami, and then looked down at Cleo. He smiled. "You've been a naughty girl, mon amour, haven't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Cleo asked innocently.

"I've never seen you like this," Dale said. He held out a hand to her and helped her "Julie's inside, playing with her new phone," Dale told Tami. "I'll get Cleo home."

"That condo is not our _home_, habibi," Cleo said. "The townhouse will be our _home_. But I can still _get laid_ in the condo."

Dale chuckled and admired her with his twinkling hazel eyes, which were similar to Eric's but lighter, like his hair. "Yes, mon amour, yes you can indeed." He slid an arm around her waist to steady her. "We'll go out the gate," he told Tami. "You and Julie have a lovely evening. Tell my brother to call me when he gets back."

He led Cleo away. She turned and waved to Tami over her shoulder.


	57. Captured by Surprise

**Chapter 57**

When Eric returned from spring training late Saturday night, the porch light was on, but all the lights were out in the house. He knew it was late, but he had hoped Tami would wait up for him. He'd texted her twenty minutes ago to say, "About fifteen minutes from home." There'd been no response, but still, he'd been hoping for a homecoming greeting. They hadn't seen each other for a full week, after all.

He dropped his suitcase in the living room, took off his Dillon Panthers hat, and tossed it on the coffee table. He ran his hand through his dense hair and sighed. He kicked off his shoes. As he was peeling off his second sock, he looked down the hallway and noticed the dim light seeping through the bottom of the closed bedroom door. He smiled.

After tucking his socks in his shoes and lining them up against his suitcase, Eric made his way down the hall. He stopped off in the hall bath to wash his face, straighten his hair as best he could with his fingers, and gargle with mouthwash. He wondered what he would find when he opened their bedroom door. Sometimes, after he'd been gone on a trip, she was lying atop the bed spread completely naked. At other times, she had only her bra and panties on, or a sexy piece of lingerie.

He opened the door and closed it behind himself. A single lamp on her side of the bed was on, but the bed was still made, and she wasn't there. "Tami?" he asked.

"I'm in the bathroom," she said.

He walked into the master bath. Candles were positioned and lit all across the vanity. In the soft glow of the flickering light, he found her standing in a flattering, light, spring dress. Not her usual choice, though she did look very pretty. She was barefoot. He would have preferred high heels, but who was he to complain? His eyes drew up her long, bare legs to where the fabric began just at her knees, and eventually fell on the cleavage the dress was designed to highlight. "You look lovely," he said. "I missed you."

He started to step forward when she stepped back. "I need you to fix the shower curtain rod before we kiss hello," she said. "It needs to be snapped back in."

"What?" Who cared about a curtain rod at a time like this? He glanced toward the shower and saw there was no shower curtain up at all, and the rod was hanging loose at one end. "How did that happen? You want me to fix it _right now_?"

"It's distracting. I won't be able to greet you properly if you don't."

"A'ight." He stepped inside the tub and faced outward. He stretched his arms up to grip the rod. While he was concentrating fiercely on getting it solidly snapped into place, he didn't notice what she was up to. He heard the satisfying click of the rod fixing firmly in place in its holder. He tugged on it to make sure it was sturdy, and that's when he heard another click.

Tami was standing up on the edge of the tub to gain the extra few inches she had needed to cuff him to the curtain rod.

Eric looked at the pink, fuzzy handcuffs that encircled both his left wrist and the rod and blinked. She wasn't suppose to cuff him, he thought. That's not how this worked. Not that he'd ever done it before, but he was pretty sure that was not how this worked. While he was thinking this, she slid his right hand, which was still holding the rod near the wall, closer to his left and cuffed that to the rod too. Then she stepped down from the rim of the tub back onto the floor.

He looked up at his arms stretched above his head and his wrists against the rod. "Tami, I'm not sure – "

"- Shhh," she said, and walked to the linen closet against the far wall of the bathroom. She opened it and took out a pillow. She dropped the pillow on the floor in front of the tub.

"What's that for?" he asked.

"My knees," she said.

"Oh God. God yes."

She began to unbuckle his belt. He swallowed.

Usually, when she was on her knees, and doing _that_, he put a hand on her head and urged her further up as desired, or tugged at her hair to pull her back. He controlled the process to some extent. But he wasn't going to be able to do that this time. She could torture and tease him as long as she wanted, and there would be nothing he could do but beg.

She undid the button at the top of his jeans and pulled his zipper down slowly.

"God yes," he said. He closed his eyes and hissed when she slid her hand inside and stroked him.

Too soon, she eased her hand out. But then she pushed his jeans and boxers to his knees before sliding to her own on the pillow.

"Oh God," he said.

She put her hands down on the rim of the tub, for leverage, and bent to offer him a single, teasing swirl of her tongue.

He groaned.

She pulled back and looked up into his eyes.

"Be merciful, Tami."

She smiled. "I missed you, sugar. I think I'm going to take my sweet, sweet time." She bent her head again.

Eric closed his eyes. He could feel his knees buckling, giving way as she began to torture him. He grasped the curtain rod and held on for dear life.

** [FNL]**

Eric looked up at the stars. The porch was still wet from the afternoon spring rain. There was no need for a fire pit anymore. In a few more weeks, it might already feel like summer. That was Texas for you. Two weeks of fall, three weeks of spring, four weeks of winter, and a lifetime of summer.

"So how does Tami like those handcuffs she took home?" Dale asked. They'd gone to get their tuxedos fitted this afternoon after work, and then had dinner before retreating to the porch. Cleo and Tami were in the living room talking and sipping wine, but Cleo was limiting her consumption tonight.

Eric grinned. "They were for the musical," he insisted.

"Uh-huh. I don't remember pink handcuffs in West Side Story."

"We might have put on our own play at home," Eric admitted. "When I got back from spring training."

"How'd it go?"

"I don't kiss and tell, Dale. Not in detail anyway."

Dale laughed. "No, I meant spring training. Do you think you're going to like the new job?"

"I do. I'm a bit nervous. Expectations are high. But I'm going to grow on this team, and I think I might work my way up on it too."

"Good." Dale reached down for his glass of ice tea. "I'm getting married on Saturday."

"I'm aware. I'm you're best man."

"I hope I don't make a shit husband."

Eric turned slowly and looked at him. "Why would you think that?"

"I didn't have much of an example." Dale put the glass back on the porch. "Dad didn't treat Mom well. He ignored her input. He didn't care about any of her goals."

"You know he brought her flowers every single week?" Eric asked.

"Habit," Dale said. "Nothing more. Are you defending him?"

"No. I just don't hate him," Eric said. "The way you do."

"Do you _love_ him?"

Eric thought about it. "Not the way my daughter loves me."

Dale nodded. "How did your marriage turn out so well? Was it Coach Rayburn? Was it his example?"

"He did seem to have a good marriage," Eric said. "But Tami always forced us to talk things through, too. I don't know what kind of husband I might have been to another woman. I mean, I'd like to think I would stay faithful, but…I might have become something like Dad. I might take a wife for granted, if she let me. Tami would never let me. And you know what? I don't think Cleo will let you either. She may be more timid than Tami, when it comes to being open and honest with you, but she wasn't about to let you take her for granted. She was ready to walk away."

Dale stretched out in the deck chair and looked up at the night sky. The porch light collected moths behind them.

"The thing about Mom," Eric continued. "Is that she walked away without ever telling Dad she was thinking of walking away."

"You blame _her_ for the divorce?" Dale asked.

"No," Eric said. "But for a marriage to work, people have to be willing to speak up for themselves, for what they want, and why they really want it. Tami's taught me that. And sometimes it's still hard for me to…to be that naked."

Dale scratched his forehead.

"It's good to have a woman who won't let herself be taken for granted," Eric said. "But you've also got to make sure you don't let _yourself_ be taken for granted."

Dale was very quiet. Finally, he said, "Like I did with Cindy, you mean? Is that what you're saying?"

"You put Miami as your top choice out of the academy, because that's where she wanted to go to law school, even though you told me you wanted to start in New York. Then you worked to put her through law school, paid her tuition. You put in for a transfer to L.A., because that was where she wanted to live, even though you had a promotional opportunity in Miami." Dale raised a questioning eyebrow. "Mom told me about that. Mom bragged on you a lot. You put off your proposal because Cindy wanted to finish law school, and then you put off the wedding because she needed an expensive one."

"So you're saying Mark was right to say she had me by the balls."

"Nothing wrong with compromising for the woman you love, and working hard to give her the things that make her happy, but it can't always be one way like that. You can't always be the one giving, while she's always the one receiving. The thing about Cleo," Eric said, "is that she's sacrificial. She gives herself wholly to you. That's a _lot_ different than _any_ of the women you've dated in the past, isn't it?"

Dale nodded.

"You need that."

"Tami's pretty sacrificial, too, Eric. Who's moving to Dillon for whom?"

"I know. We've both got women who are strong and sacrificial at the same time. Odd, isn't it?"

"Maybe it's not odd at all," Dale said. "Sacrifice requires strength." He sighed. "I wish I had found Cleo sooner."

"Well you found her finally," Eric said. "Don't let her go."


	58. Receptive and the Reception

**Chapter 58**

Dale had been calm and collected while he worked the case that brought Mr. Gouda's drug smuggling servant to justice.

He had been completely in charge, and had shown no sign of nervousness, when he had rescued Tami from the hostage situation.

But now, as he stood beneath the white tent in the botanical garden looking down the grassy aisle at Cleo making her way to him, he swayed. Backward and then forward and then back again.

Eric reached over, put a hand on Dale's shoulder, and pressed down. When he was sure his brother was steady, he let go.

**[FNL]**

"You look so very handsome in a tux," Tami told Eric as they danced slowly, cheek to cheek, on the wooden stage that had been set up for the reception. The sky had been overcast at the start of the wedding, but the rain had held back, and the sun had come out just as Dale and Cleo were pronounced man and wife. The roses were in bloom all around, and the white tents shaded the reception goers from the sun. Fans had been plugged in around the edges of the tent to cool them down.

"You don't look so bad in this bridesmaid dress either," Eric said, pulling back and admiring the way it flattered her form.

"It's classy," Tami said, "I like it."

"You're classy." He smiled. "I like you." Eric leaned down and kissed her, and they resumed dancing cheek to cheek.

"I liked your toast," she said. "It was very thoughtful."

"I wish it had been funny," Eric said, "like Mikey's. I don't know how to be funny."

"Thoughtful is better than funny. And you looked even better than he does."

Eric pulled back slightly and shot her an amused look. "You don't have the hots for the priest do you?"

Mikey, having been the only other groomsman, was in a tux that matched Eric's own, and he was currently dancing with Julie on the other side of the floor.

"It does seem like a bit of a waste for some deserving woman, him being a priest. On the other hand, this way all of the single women at this wedding get to flirt with him, and they can all imagine they'd be the one if only…."

There was a tap on Eric's shoulder.

"May I cut in?"

Eric turned to see Jimmy. He did actually, as he had claimed at the bachelor's party, "clean up nice." Instead of the dress shirt and khakis he'd worn to Dale's party, he was wearing a dark suit and red tie and looked quite professional. He'd grown a goatee, which made him look more masculine.

"Tami," Eric said, "this is Dale's friend Jimmy. They went to the academy together."

"So, may I?" Jimmy asked.

"Sure," Tami said, "and took his hand."

Eric stood there, arms outstretched, in a _what just happened?_ gesture.

Jimmy led Tami to the right and brushed up against him. "You're a bit in the way there, Eric," he said.

Eric shook his head and left the dance floor. He walked over to the punch bowl and found Dale filling his glass. Dale handed him the glass he'd just filled and then turned to fill another of his own.

"Jimmy better not get handsy with her," Eric told him. "I really don't like him dancing with her."

"Can I let you in on a little secret?" Dale asked.

"What's that?"

"Jimmy doesn't really like women as much as he pretends to. That rakishness…it's all for show."

"And that line about never having sex with fewer than three girls in high school?"

"Oh, he had girlfriends in high school," Dale said. "He was even married for six years before the divorce. But his brother wasn't _really_ the problem. She had an affair with his brother because…well…she was barely getting any at home."

Eric glanced back at Jimmy. "So he's…_deep_ in the closet?"

"I know. Mark knows. John knows. Mikey knows. His wife knew. Jimmy may be the only one who doesn't know." Dale nodded toward Cleo, who was dancing with her eldest son on the floor. Both boys had come for the wedding as had, to Cleo's surprise and delight, her eldest brother, the one who had once told Dale that if he ever dishonored Cleo, he would put him in a ditch. "She's stunning, isn't she?"

"You two look really good together," Eric told him. He raised his punch glass, "To a long, happy life together," he said.

Dale clinked Eric's glass with his own. "Are you talking about me and Cleo or you and me?"

Eric laughed. "You and Cleo. But…I'm glad you're in my life again, Dale."

"I'm glad too."

"That was a nice song you played for her, on the violin." Dale had taken the instrument to the microphone and dedicated his composition to Cleo. There were no words, but even Eric got a sense of the meaning. "I'm sorry I never made it to any of your college orchestra concerts."

"You were nine, ten, eleven, Eric. You couldn't very well drive yourself."

"Mom went three times. I didn't go with her."

"You had football practice."

"I should have gone to at least one," Eric said. "I'm sorry."

Dale was watching Cleo dance. "Forget yesterday," he said. "Tomorrow's a new day."

"Speaking of tomorrow…Can I return this tux tomorrow morning instead of tonight?"

"Sure. They'll probably charge a late fee or something. But Cleo and I will be out of here by 4 PM. You'll have time to get it back tonight before they close, if you want."

Eric looked out at Jimmy leading Tami. She did look gorgeous in that dress. It was fairly modest, but nonetheless managed to accentuate her form. She looked like a movie star to him. "I don't want. Tami's going to want me to keep it on tonight."

"Ah. I see." Dale smiled. "So I'm not the only one who will be enjoying my wedding night?"

**[FNL]**

Tami hastily undid the top button of Eric's black suit pants. She yanked down his zipper. Their mouths were pressed tightly together and their tongues were dancing a wild tango. His back was pressed to the trunk of a tree several feet into a wooded area on the far side of the pond. His bowtie, which she'd yanked loose, hung against the white shirt, exactly as she liked it, a little wild, half undone.

Eric had looked so good in that tux that she couldn't stop thinking about him. After Dale and Cleo had departed under a shower of bubbles (no rice in the gardens), she'd left Julie in the reception tent, where the girl was chatting with Cleo's younger son about study abroad programs and American colleges, and told Eric she wanted to take a closer look at the roses. They'd ended up walking halfway around the pond, hand in hand, until she drew him into the woods and they began making out.

"Tami," he breathed now. "Right here? We can't."

She slid her hand inside his pants and stroked him until he was fully hard. He moaned against her lips. "Still think you can't?" she asked.

He looked to his left and to his right. Then he glanced down at her dress, which fell to just below her knees. She stepped back and slid her panties to the ground before stepping out of them, her high heels still on.

"Damn, Tami," he muttered, drawing his eyes from her shoes slowly back up to her eyes. The lighter flecks of hazel in his had darkened.

Eric turned her around so that her back was now the one pressed against the tree, and he pulled her dress up to her hips. The material bunched against the bark. She pushed his pants and boxers down to just above his knees. His shirt tail fell over his erection.

"Take me, Eric," she told him. "Right here. Right now."

He lifted one of her legs, which she bent and wrapped behind him, and thrust into her with a low groan.

Tami gasped. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. She wanted him to move, but he didn't right away. He stood still and lowered his lips to her ear. "Is this how you want it, Tami?" he asked her. "With the tux still on? Hard? Against this tree?"

"Yes," she pleaded.

**[FNL]**

"I thought I saw them walk this way past the pond," came Father Mikey's voice on the other side of the light foliage. "But there's nothing back here but trees."

Eric was slumped on top of Tami, breathing heavily. Her head was bent against his shoulder, the after waves were still rippling through her body. Eric broke away from her and yanked up his pants. He began buttoning and zipping while Tami pulled her dress back down. She looked around for her panties, but they'd been trodden under both of their shoes by now. Eric plucked them up and shoved them in his pants pocket.

"Well," came the voice of Cleo's cousin, who had played maid of honor, "I'm sure they'll turn up soon. Julie just wanted to know where they went."

Their voices faded away from the woods.

"We better head back," Tami said.

Eric smiled as they began walking through the woods, his hand on the small of her back. "That was…unusual of you, babe." The last time he could remember having sex with her in a semi-public place was down by a lake, when they were teenagers, and the chance of interruption had been minuscule that night. They'd also been shrouded by a tent.

"It's not my fault you had to go and wear a tux," she said. "I can't be held responsible for that."

"Well," he told her as they came out of the woods. "Just so you know, I've got this all night."


	59. To Brotherhood

Eric didn't hear from Dale for the next three weeks, when he got a call inviting them over to the new house for dinner.

"You're already in the house?"

"They finished ahead of schedule," Dale told him.

"You didn't need help moving in?"

"I hired some guys," Dale said.

Eric never "hired some guys." He could never afford to "hire some guys." He always did it himself, with the help of friends or co-workers or his new team.

While Cleo took Tami and Julie on a complete tour of the new luxury townhome, Eric stood glancing around the living room. "I see you don't have the pinball machine or jukebox anymore. Welcome to married life."

"I still have them," Dale insisted. "They're just in an even better location."

"Where's that?" Eric asked. "Storage?"

"She lets me have my own room," Dale said. "Come see." Dale led him out to the 2.5-car garage.

"I wondered why both of your cars were on the street." Eric glanced around the makeshift room.

There was a window with an air conditioning unit on the far wall. Dale's gun safe was against one wall, next to a reloading bench with equipment and powder and boxes of casings. A large rug had been set down on the cement floor, on top of which was a simple cloth couch, a rugged wooden coffee table, and a television, which had been plugged in via extension cord. The jukebox was in the garage, and the pinball machine, and a mini fridge sat in one corner.

"Not bad," Eric said. "I wouldn't mind something like this." He nodded toward the fridge. "You got beer in there?"

Soon they were sitting on the couch, feet up on the coffee table, tossing them back.

"How was the honeymoon?" Eric asked.

"I can barely walk," Dale said.

"Because of all that walking around D.C., huh?" Eric smirked.

"Hey, Cleo is new to the U.S. She wanted to see the nation's capital. And we spent at least half our time in the hotel."

"Did you bring all your handcuffs?" Eric asked. "Tami said that Cleo said you have _quite_ the handcuff collection."

"What? Cleo told Tami that?" Dale's surprised expression faded. "Your wife did get her quite drunk, you know."

Eric laughed.

"I'd never seen her drunk before." He smiled. "I thought we'd have some fun when we got back to the condo, but she fell straight to sleep."

"I wonder what else they talked about," Eric mused.

"Probably how fantastic you and I are in bed."

Eric chuckled. "I'm a little surprised about the handcuffs," he admitted. "I mean, not from you…" Not since the bachelor party, anyway. "But Cleo seems pretty reserved. Fairly…traditional."

"She is. In _public_. And it's not like I whipped them out right away. But I think she was a little bored with her sex life with her husband. She loved him, of course, but she's a strong woman and she's lived a daring life, in a way, always pushing against the confines of her culture. Part of her craves excitement and variety. She just needed permission to admit it and a safe environment to explore it."

"Which you were happy to provide."

"More than happy."

"How's married life?" Eric asked.

"You know, I haven't lived with a woman in fifteen years. I thought I'd have a lot less free time when I got married, but Cleo's fantastic about giving me space. She wants her space too. And she spoils me a bit. She'll tell me – go out in the garage and do your reloading. I'll tell you when dinner is ready." He chuckled and shook his head. "I guess there are some advantages to not marrying a modern American woman."

"Hey, Tami's a modern American woman, and I'm still spoiled. But you have to be willing to help, Dale."

"I do help! But here's the fantastic thing. Whenever I do, she _thanks_ me. She tells me I'm a good husband, a good cook, a good whatever. As if I wasn't doing exactly what I would be doing if she didn't live with me. I'm not used to being thanked. Being complimented like that. All the time."

Eric looked at his beer bottle. Growing up a good football player, he'd been more than used to praise. He'd gotten praise even from their cold father, provided he did well at football. "Cindy didn't do that?" he asked.

"Not routinely, like Cleo does. It seemed Cindy was more aware of what I _didn't_ do than what I _did_ do. But to be appreciated – genuinely appreciated – day after day, even for little things?" Dale laughed happily. "I could get used to this."

"Well, don't get _too_ used to it," Eric said. "You're still newlyweds."

"Tami still compliments you. I've seen her do it."

"I know. But she's gives me a hard time sometimes too. I'm just saying…marriage is a roller coaster."

Dale took a sip of his beer. "Good thing I like roller coasters."

**[FNL]**

Eric always hated the last day of school. It was a ridiculous, three hour day, the classroom had already been cleaned up, only half the kids showed up, and the grades had been turned in for a week. There was this silly, 20-minute class schedule, and he felt like he was in some kind of bizarre limbo.

So he was glad when he got the voice mail from Dale saying, "I'm skipping out of work early today. Want to meet me for a drink at noon?"

**[FNL]**

Dale reached for the mug of dark beer that sat in front of him, and sipped it. "How was your last day of school?"

"Awful," Eric said. "I don't know why they don't just end school when you turn in the grades. But we got an offer on the house. They don't want to close until August, so we'll have to get a bridge loan for the place in Dillon."

"Dale Taylor?"

Eric and Dale both turned to the woman who had called the name. A pretty, buxom, red haired woman stood by the table.

"It's…you remember me?" she asked.

"Of course," Dale said.

"Mind if I sit down?" She didn't wait for an invitation. She slid in next to Eric, who scooted to the far end of the booth.

"How are you?" she asked.

Eric still didn't know who the woman was.

"Cindy," Dale said, "you remember Eric? My brother?"

Eric's eyes widened.

She nodded at him. "Yeah," she said. "We met two or three times. A long time ago. You sure have grown up." She turned her attention from Eric. "How are you, Dale?"

"I'm doing well. How's Jackson?"

She laughed. "Funny thing I learned. If a guy will cheat _with_ you, he'll also probably cheat _on_ you."

"Imagine that," Dale said. Eric saw that he was gripping his pint glass tightly.

"We broke up two years after…" Cindy blushed. "After you and I did. I tried calling you, but your number was out of service."

"I'd moved to New York by then."

"You know…" Cindy said, "I always thought of you as the one who got away."

Eric wanted to melt into the booth. He might as well have. Cindy acted like he wasn't there.

"Funny," Dale said, "because I never thought of myself as getting away. It was more like you threw me away."

She laughed uncomfortably. "I was a fool," she said. "You always treated me well. I don't know why….I don't know. How are you? Are you…." She glanced at his finger and saw the ring. "How long?"

"About two months."

"That's it?"

"We dated for almost three years first," Dale said. "Some people get lucky late in life. What brings you to Dallas?"

"My brother lives here. Remember?"

"No. I forgot that."

"I'm staying with him for a while. While I get back on my feet. I'm between jobs."

"Oh," Dale said. Eric looked into his beer glass and wished he could somehow escape. "My wife's a translator for an international law firm. She's very good at what she does. Very talented. Brilliant woman. Not that we need the money because," he shrugged, "I _am_ making well over six figures at this point in my career."

"Oh," Cindy said. "Married just under two months, huh?"

"Best two months of my life," Dale said. "Of my _entire_ life."

Cindy smiled weakly. "Well, it was nice running into you. Nice seeing you again. I guess I better get going."

"I guess so," Dale said. "Nice seeing you too."

Eric felt the tension flow out of his body once Cindy was gone. He looked at his brother, who was looking at him.

"I'm a petty little shit," Dale said, "but damn did that feel good."

Eric laughed.

"And now I can't wait to go home and make love to my wife."

"We're a couple of very lucky guys, aren't we?" Eric asked. "Life didn't really turn out as either of us planned, but we found the most important things."

Dale raised his mug. "To our wives."

"To Cleo and Tami," Eric agreed, and hit Dale's glass with his own.

"And to us," Dale said, "to brotherhood."

"To brotherhood!" Eric agreed.

The glasses clinked, and the beer sloshed up in them, almost to the rim, without spilling out. Dale and Eric's smiles reflected in their separate glasses for a moment, and then they drank.


	60. Part II: News

_**A/N: I had the urge to continue this, but no idea where I am going with it, and not sure how often I will update. It may turn out to be more of a random series of conversational vignettes than a sustained plot/story, so fair warning...**_

**[FNL]**

The Taylors had been settled in their rented house in Dillon for about three months when Eric's brother Dale and his wife Cleo arrived for Thanksgiving dinner. Tami immediately drew her sister-in-law off into the kitchen, where, Eric imagined, they would drink wine, chatter, and pretend to be cooking.

Meanwhile, Dale insisted they go out onto the back porch and throw back some beers.

"Dale, man, I want to watch the game," Eric said as Dale slid the glass door shut behind them. "It's not halftime yet. Tami carefully schedules dinner to fall during halftime. We can be drinking beers inside."

"Come on, brother! You haven't seen me since August, and you've got that game recording don't you?"

"Yeah, but that's not the same as watching it live," Eric grumbled, though he took the deck chair next to Dale.

"How's the new job going?" Dale asked him.

"A'ight. I think they'll move Jason up to varsity next year, and maybe I'll move out of JV with him, become QB coach or, dare I dream it – head coach."

"Do you dare dream it?" Dale asked with a slight smile.

"Head coach told me to pour some cold water on my boiling ambition. I guess he figured out I was gunning for his job when he retires. He reminded me he has other assistants with a lot more experience than me, but I still think I have a chance."

Dale took a swig of beer before asking, "And has Tami found a job yet?"

Eric shook his head. "Said she's going to wait until Julie is in high school to go back to work full-time. She wants to work on fixing up this house a bit. And she's volunteering. And she's taking distance classes in administration."

"Administration?"

"Says she might want to go from being a guidance counselor to being an assistant principal one day."

"That's quite the leap. Especially considering she only has a few years of work under her belt."

"Yeah, well, don't tell _her_ that. She's home. She's here for Julie in the morning and afternoon, has dinner waiting for me when I get home from practice – if she wanted to take classes in underwater basket weaving, I'd support her."

Dale chuckled. "You like being king of your castle."

"A little bit," Eric admitted. "Wouldn't you?"

"Prefer Cleo to be home waiting on me instead of working full-time in academia?" He shrugged. "No, not before now. But now…I'm not so sure. Because now…she's pregnant. And I'm about to lose my mind."

Eric tore the beer from his mouth "What? I thought you said you didn't think - "

"- I _didn't_ think! She's over 40. She didn't use birth control for years after her second son with her first husband, and she never got pregnant again."

"How far along?"

"Three months, we think."

"That's fast. Seems like y'all just got married."

"No shit that's fast," Dale said, running his fingers through his hair. Eric thought it looked a little grayer than it had when he last saw him. "I wasn't planning on this! Eric, I'm going to be 62 by the time this kid graduates high school! And I've never been a father! I was not prepared for this!"

"But you told Cleo you were okay with not using birth control, that you were fine with letting nature take its course. You told her - "

"- I thought nature's course was good and well blocked."

"So you're saying you don't want a kid?"

Dale swallowed and shook his head. "I'm saying I never actually thought about it. I assumed it wouldn't happen.'

"Dale, you have two degrees and you speak three languages and you didn't _think_ about it?"

Dale rubbed his eyes. "Before she told me, I was thinking about quitting my supervisory position with the D.E.A. and going back to the field full-time. I miss it so much. But Cleo will freak out if I decide to do that now. She's pushing for me to take retirement, which I can next year, and then she wants me to get that firearms instruction business going with my buddy."

"Well, didn't you say you might want to do that? I thought that was your plan?"

"Yeah. I like training people, but...I don't know. The more I think about it, the more boring it seems. And I'm starting to feel like the walls are closing in on me."

"Well, marriage, a kid, family...it's limiting, sure. It can't be all about you anymore, Dale. You signed up for this. I cant believe I have to tell my brother, who's ten years older than me, how to be a man, but - "

"- Tami supports you in your career. She doesn't ask you to tone it down."

"I don't get _shot at_ in my career."

"Your house and lawn gets toilet papered though, sometimes, huh?"

"Not quite the same, Dale."

"Drug lords never TP my lawn."

Eric laughed. "Hey, listen, also, this move - Tami and I talked it out. We agreed together. I wouldn't have made her move if she hadn't agreed." He made his readiness to listen sound a little more immediate than it had actually been, but he had listened in the end.

Dale sighed. "Cleo knew who I was when she married me. She knew what kind of work I did in Cairo. She knew how dangerous it was. And now, suddenly, it's - quit, be an instructor, play it safe.'

"Suddenly? Dale, to be fair, I was under the impression that was your plan too. Before this pregnancy."

"It was a _possibility_," he said, "but now she's talking like it's the _only_ possibility. And here I am thinking...I want to get back in the field more than ever."

Eric stood from his chair and restlessly wrapped the garden hose, which had fallen loose, back around its stand. He turned to face his brother. "Is this that mid-life crisis thing I hear so much about?"

"I'm not having a midlife crisis."

"Maybe not, but you're having a baby."

Dale nodded solemnly.

"Having a baby," Eric repeated, and then chuckled and swigged his beer. One hand on his hip, he looked at his brother with a smirk. "Hell of a lot scarier than staring down a drug lord, ain't it?"


	61. Pillow and Coffee Talk

Tami crawled into bed next to Eric. He glanced at her and smiled. Even in sweats and a t-shirt, she was beautiful. He wanted her suddenly, but he knew he couldn't pounce on her the moment she settled in. She never responded well to that. So he leaned over and kissed her cheek affectionately.

"Crazy about Cleo being pregnant," she said.

"I know. Dale's acting like a chicken with his head cut off. Doesn't know where to run."

"Well, it's got to be startling. Can you imagine if I got pregnant at 41, after years of infertility? What would you do?"

"I'd handle it better than Dale, is what I would do," Eric avowed.

"Yeah, well, you've at least been through it once. He's never really lived for anyone but himsef. His whole world is about to be turned upside down."

Eric sighed. He didn't think they were going to be fooling around anytime soon, if at all, tonight. He settled for resting his head on the pillow, turning on his side, and slinging an arm around her waist. "He'll be a'ight. He'll figure it out."

"You know, you're going to have to be the big brother for awhile. Talk him through some of this stuff."

"If he asks, I will."

"Even if he doesn't," Tami insisted.

"_If_ he asks," Eric replied gruffly. He closed his eyes. He sensed, rather than saw her smile.

"This means I get to be the cool Aunt. Like Shelley."

Eric's eyelids flew open. "You don't want to be the cool aunt."

"Yes, I do."

"Not like Shelley. And you like Cleo. You want to stay friends with Cleo."

"Maybe I'll be the moderately cool aunt."

Eric chuckled. "Moderately cool Aunt Tami. I like the sound of it."

She snuggled in and kissed his nose. "You get to be the cool uncle. Teach him football."

"I do get to teach him football," Eric said, suddenly feeling a little bit excited about the prospect of a nephew. "Dale's not going to be able to do that." His brow furrowed. "Wait, it could be a niece."

"Then you can teach her football."

"I hope it's a nephew," he said.

"I thought you told me you were glad Julie was a girl."

"I am. I never wanted to repeat the relationship I had with my father with a son. But a nephew...a nephew is completely different."

"I always wanted Julie to have cousins," Tami mused. "But that will be a thirteen year age gap. Not sure she's going to get much out of that."

Eric stroked her hair. "You smell really nice." She did. Like peaches.

Tami rolled her eyes. "You want to get laid, don't you?"

"I want to make slow, tender love to my beautiful, moderately cool wife."

She laughed, her head pulling back and her eyes twinkling. A smile tugged at his lips. He knew he was halfway there. He was always at least halfway there when he made her laugh like that.

She straightened her head, looked at him, and said, "Would you settle for a quickie instead? It's getting late, and Cleo and I are going out to breakfast early tomorrow."

"I could be persuaded to settle for a quickie." He tickled her and flipped her on her stomach. He nipped at her neck, and she giggled in a sultry way as he moved his hands down the him of her t-shirt.

**[FNL]**

Cleo winced. She set down the mug of coffee on the brown table. "American coffee is awful. You can never get a bad cup of coffee in Egypt, no matter where you go."

"You'll have to take me for coffee in Egypt sometime," Tami said, and added a creamer to her cup. She needed her mediocre American coffee. Eric had not been quick last night. He'd ended up taking his time. Not that she minded, when it was all said and done.

"I suppose I will go back to see my brothers and nieces and nephews someday. But my youngest son is transferring from Cairo University next semester to SMU. He got a full scholarship, room and board, so he won't be staying with us. But he will be nearby. We can pay him to babysit his little sibling. He'll need spending money."

"I guess there are some advantages to that kind of age difference," Tami said.

"Do you ever think you would have another?" Cleo asked her as she spread some butter on her toast.

"I don't think I can. We tried for years. I'm content with our little family as it is."

"I think maybe Dale was content with our little family as it was and tht he's not too thrilled about this addition."

"He'll come around," Tami assured her. "He loves you. Eric was freaked out when he found out I was pregnant with Julie. But he's turned out to be a really good father."

"Eric was in his early twenties. Dale is in his mid-forties. And I know he's restless. He wants to go back in the field. He doesn't like his supervisory desk job, and he's been backpedaling on retiring from the D.E.A. and starting the training business. It's like trying to cage a wild bird."

Tami pushed her plate aside. "Eric's always been ambitious. We've moved a few times for his job. I know a little bit how you feel, but, you know, it's probably part of why you're attracted to Dale. I know it's part of why I'm attracted to Eric. There's something sexy about a confident man, who wants to be out there on the field, in the thick of it."

"There's something sexy about a good father too," Cleo said.

"Dale will be a good father. He's been great with Julie, as her uncle. He _wants_ family, I think, even if he isn't quite ready for a baby." In fact, Dale was taking Julie to the range today to teach her gun safety and to do a little target shooting.

"When he was in the field," Cleo said, "he often worked sixty hour weeks. And he sometimes got shot at. You cannot be a good father if you are dead."

"I know about the sixty hour weeks. That's football season. Between teaching and practice and coach's meetings and all the damn game tape..." Tami shook her head. "But I'd have a hard time with the risk, especially if I was about to be a mother. Have you talked to Dale about how you feel?"

"Yes. He hasn't promised not to go back. He says it's part of who he is, that it defines him, and that I should understand that." She sighed. "He said I knew who he was when I married him, and he is right about that. I did. And I married him anyway."

"Is there some compromise you can work out? Some way where he can work in the field only forty hours a week and he only gets shot at once every two years?"

Cleo laughed. She picked up her fork. "The coffee may be subpar, but the company is splendid."


	62. Man Cave Chat

Tami was clearly jealous of Cleo and Dale's house, at least she was in Eric's eyes. She kept giving it too many compliments. It was just a house. An inanimate object. The type of house Eric was probably never going to be able to afford to buy her...well, maybe, if he got the head coaching job at Dillon one day, and then ten years later became an assistant college coach. When they were in their fifties, he'd buy her a place like this.

And he was definitely going to have a man cave like Dale's. Except his wasn't going to have a wooden bench with some strange blue contraption full of gunpowder. His man cave was, however, going to have a couch like the one he now slid onto, and a coffee table like the one he was now putting his feet up on, and a small fridge full of beer like the one from which Dale was now drawing two bottles. And the pinball machine. He was going to buy himself a pinball machine, too, after his first year as QB coach of the Aggies. Or the Longhorns. Or the Baylor Bears.

Dale sighed as he eased down next to Eric and handed him a beer. Eric muted the football game on the television as a sign of his willingness to engage with his brother, but he kept one eye on the field. Eric wasn't sure where Tami was at the moment. Out back with Cleo by the outdoor fireplace, gushing about the brickwork, probably, and getting tipsy on wine. Julie was staying with her aunt Shelley in her apartment in Dallas tonight. Eric had expressed some concern at the arrangement - Shelley didn't strike him as the most responsible guardian of a twelve year old, and her tiny apartment was not in the best part of the city, but Julie was gleeful at the prospect of touring Dallas with her aunt, and Eric did like the idea of a child-free night. Besides, Shelley would be bringing Shelley over tomorrow, for a family Christmas Eve dinner.

"Cleo was really nice to invite Shelley," Eric said, "after some of the things that came out of her mouth that time y'all were at our old place in Fort Worth."

Dale shrugged. "Cleo's family is not the picture of perfection either. At least Shelley hasn't threatened to put anyone in a ditch."

"That we know of," Eric said. He smiled and then, more seriously, asked, "I don't guess you invited Dad, though."

"Of course not. Did you want me to?"

"It's your house. But he's family."

"He wouldn't have come anyway. Not for me. Hell, when was the last time he came to Christmas dinner even for you?"

"Three years ago." Eric sipped his beer and then changed gears. "So Cleo's in her second trimester now, huh? You any calmer?"

"No. But I'm better at pretending to be."

Eric chuckled. He looked around. "You know what this place needs? A fooz ball table."

"Where would I put it?"

"You could get rid of that bench over there." Eric gestured to the bench that was scattered with reloading equipment, cardboard boxes of spent brass, and two partially dissembled guns.

"Never. Besides, that's a business expense. Especially if I I'm going to retire early and start the firearms training business with Damien."

"So you're back to that idea now? Now that you've got a baby coming?"

"Don't guess I have much choice if I want to make my wife happy. So as much as I'd like to go back to the filed, I guess I'll just stay with my ass planted in that supervisor's chair until the end of the year, take early retirement, and start the business. I won't get shot at. I won't have to travel a lot. I'll see my child more. And it'll be easier for Cleo to keep her job if I'm around more to help."

"She's not quitting her job to stay home with the kid?"

"Cleo?" Dale laughed. "No. We'll get a nanny."

Eric raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He wouldn't let some stranger raise _his_ kid. Julie had been with babysitters and in child care some, sure, over the years, on and off, but not all the time. Not with a full-time nanny. Tami had spent some time at home. Of course, they couldn't have afforded a nanny even if they had wanted one.

"Is this nanny going to be Swedish?" Eric asked with a smirk. "And twenty-two?"

"I don't think I get to pick the nanny unfortunately. But if I did, she'd be Moroccan. And thirty-two."

"Do they have beautiful women in Morroco?" Eric asked.

"Oh, God man, you should go sometime."

"Yeah, I'll have to put that on my lists of places I've seen. Right along with Oklahoma, Arizona, and Iowa."

Dale shook his head. "Have you been anywhere outside of Texas other than where you flew for games when you were playing college ball?"

Eric shook his head.

"We all need to take a family vacation. After I retire and before I start the training business."

"Is that business going to satisfy you?" Eric asked. He could understand Dale's hesitation about transitioning. He couldn't imagine giving up coaching, even if it was to do something else involving football.

"There are things I miss about the field. I crave a certain level of excitement. The adrenaline rush, you know? You probably get it during games."

"Yeah."

Dale swung his feet down, set his beer bottle on the table, and leaned forward. "I got that in the field. I don't get it pushing papers. Which is why I've been wanting to quit being a supervisor and go back to the field. But Damien pointed out to me I might get some of that rush in the training business. We'll be running guys through some tense _shoot, don't shoot_ scenarios. We'll have action shooting courses. And I'll be doing that sort of thing all the time. Not just when I'm on a raid. It won't be _real_...but it could still be kind of exciting."

"Coaching is just as exciting as playing was. Well, almost."

"But do you get laid as often after you win?"

"Oh yeah," Eric said with a grin. "It makes Tami hot and bothered for some reason, even though I'm not out there playing."

"Cleo's not going to be watching me teach, though."

"Well she wasn't watching you do raids, either." Eric was temporarily distracted by a play on the television, but he returned his attention to Dale when it was over. "Cleo won that argument pretty quickly. About your job."

"Hey, you're the one who told me I can't afford a midlife crisis now that I've got a baby coming."

"Just don't resent her if you do start to get bored."

"Well, she did promise to spice things up for me if I ever got bored."

Eric shook his head. "What's that mean, exactly? Seems like you've already got quite the handcuff collection."

"Well, at the moment, it means nothing, apparently. We've had sex maybe four times in the past two months. She's been really tired. And a bit nauseous."

"I remember those days. It's hell. But don't worry. She's in the second trimester. That hormone kick should be coming soon. And then it'll be good until the last month or two of the pregnancy. And then after the birth, she won't want you to touch her for another..." He tried to remember how long it was before Tami didn't have to be begged for sex. "Oh, damn, Dale. Sorry."

"That bad, was it?"

"It wasn't good."

Dale sighed.

"But you'll be so tired for at least the first three weeks, with the baby waking up twice a night, you won't hardly even want to either."

"Twice a night? What does it need to get up _twice_ a night for?"

"It's a baby, Dale. It's got eat every three hours."

"Well I don't have the equipment to feed it."

"She'll pump and give you a bottle and make you get up with it. Trust me."

"I married a traditional, Egyptian woman, Eric. I'm not going to have to feed the baby."

Eric laughed. "A traditional, Egyptian woman who isn't quitting her job and who talked you into retiring from yours?"

"Details," Dale said.

"Tami made me get up sometimes even when she was breastfeeding Julie. I was supposed to get her, bring her to the bed, change her after, and take her back to bed."

"And you didn't even get laid for these troubles?" Dale's lip curved into a smile. "Sounds like you're not as much the king of your castle as you imagine."

"I cannot wait until this baby is born and puts you in your place, Dale."

The garage door opened. Cleo stood wrapped in a colorful Egyptian sari, which she apparently wore around the house while opting for more western attire while out and about. "Gentlemen," she said. "Dinner is served."

They stood. "Served, see?" Dale whispered to his brother. "I get served."

"And Dale," Cleo said, "take out that trash before you set the table."


	63. Late Night Call

Tami gripped the sheets in the palms of her hands as Eric kissed a tantalizing trail of kisses downward. He'd been freshly shaven this morning before work, but now a light stubble tickled her bare flesh. He raked his teeth gently over one hip, and she let go of the sheets. Tami loved the slow tease, but she could only endure it for so long. She placed a hand on the side of his head and began to urge him between her legs. The shrill ring of the phone spiraling its way from the kitchen interrupted her impending pleasure. Eric looked up.

"Ignore it," she ordered, and placed her palm down on the top of his head and pushed.

He satisfied her first before sliding deliciously inside and groaning his own way to release, at which point he rolled contentedly on his back, murmured, "_Damn, Tami_," caught his breath, and fell promptly asleep.

Tami, on the other hand, was more awake than she had been when he had shut his book thirty minutes ago, rolled over, and begun to nibble her ear. She threw on some clothes, made her way to the kitchen, poured a glass of water, and listened to the voice mail as she sipped.

"It's happening," came Dale's frantic voice. "Three weeks early, but it's happening. " There was noise in the background, a rustling of people, and an intercom crackling. "She went into labor about three hours ago. Gotta go. I think I'm supposed to be doing something."

Tami crawled back into bed. Eric had turned on his side and was snoring lightly. She jostled him by the shoulder. "Cleo's having the baby."

He snorted, blinked, and asked, "What? Now?"

"Yes, now."

"Okay." He rolled over again and started to doze off.

Tami jostled him again. "Don't you think you should call your brother?"

He looked over his shoulder at her. "I think he might be busy at the moment."

"To see how things are going, I mean."

Eric lay his head on the pillow. "He'll call when it's out."

Dale did. Tami knew because she was in the living room drinking wine and watching a recorded episode of _Desperate Housewives_, anxious and unable to get back to sleep.

"7 pounds, 2 ounces," Dale told her. "21 inches. A good-sized little bugger for having come a little earlier. He's a boy."

Eric would be glad to hear it, Tami thought. Someone he could toss the football with. "Did y'all pick a name?"

"Ramses."

"Oh," Tami said, and hoped her tone hadn't betrayed her. That kids was going to get regular ribbing on the playground. "Like the Pharaoh?"

"Just kidding, Tami. You think I'd agree to name my kid Ramses? We're calling him Seth."

"Is that Egyptian?"

"It's the Greek form of an Egyptian name."

"Wasn't Seth evil in Egyptian mythology?" Tami recalled reading Julie a pop-up book about mythology when the girl was little and was trying to recall the story.

"Well, he's the god of disorder and violence."

"Huh."

"But also foreigners. And Cleo is a stranger in a strange land, so…she thought…."

"Ah."

"Plus she's Christian and it's biblical."

"It is?" Tami asked. She couldn't remember a Seth in the Bible, not off the top of her head. She hadn't taught Sunday school in a few years.

"Adam and Eve's third son," Dale said. "The one Noah and Abraham and all those guys came from. Do you hate the name?"

"No. I like it," she said, though she had no strong feeling about it at all. Then she observed, "I had a Seth once when I had that school guidance counselor job. " Of course, that Seth had been a little jerk. A royal pain her ass, unwilling to take any help to improve his standing in school. Maybe it was good she and Eric had never managed to have a second child. Between his teaching and coaching, and her brief work as a guidance counselor, they'd have a score of names with bad associations to rule out. "Does he have a middle name?"

"Eric."

"Oh, Eric's going to love that. He'll be honored."

"Tell him not to let it go to his head."

Tami chuckled. "Well, we'll come visit this weekend, see our little nephew, if you think Cleo will be up for it."

"She'd love your help for the weekend I'm sure. She'll be busting out of this joint Friday morning probably. Eric doesn't have a coach's meeting or anything?"

"Spring training has been over for a while. There's only a month left of school. He doesn't have much going on. He can probably take a day off on Monday, too. We can leave Julie at Shelley's, if it'll make things more relaxed. After she sees her cousin, of course."

"Sounds great. Listen, I better get back to my wife. Tell my lazy, sleeping brother the good news."

"I will."

"Wake him up to tell him."

"I will. But then he gets to go back to sleep until morning. You, on the other hand…."

Dale half-laughed. "Yeah, Eric warned me about the sleep thing. I used to work 16 hour shifts sometimes, though. I know how to push through on just a little sleep."

Tami smiled and said good bye. Dale thought he knew what he was in for, but he had no idea, not really.


End file.
